


White Rabbits

by katizwitchy



Category: American McGee's Alice, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Crossover, F/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katizwitchy/pseuds/katizwitchy
Summary: Alice Liddell has seemingly been followed by tragedy, the strange, and the unusual all her life, and Paris was supposed to put an end to that. However, after six years, her old family home, rebuilt from its ashes to more than its former glory calls her back to England, along with a nudge from her close friend Blaise Zabini, hoping to bring Alice’s life back into focus. The two come back to the wizarding world they loved, lost, fought for, won back, and tried to bury with a plan: to continue fighting the battle that the ministry claims is over, and purge Britain of magical items that harbor as much danger as the Horcruxes did in their childhood. However, wandless, “wild-magic” user Liddell and Legilimens Zabini fail to fly under the radar, and Minister of Magic Hermione Granger is not a fan of two former Slytherins looking for extremely rare and powerful magical objects. The two must duck and weave under bureaucratic red tape at every turn, but they are not alone: classmate and fellow rebel Neville Longbottom is eager to join their hunt, and his addition to the group digs up more than memories for Alice. Feelings are fatal, but, as we know, no one’s better at escaping death than the rebel fighters from the class of ‘98.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a fan-written (duh) crossover tale that mixes the storylines from the video game Alice Madness Returns and the fantasy series Harry Potter. I do not own the characters presented in this story, nor the source material I used for inspiration to write this tale. I am taking the source material and building on that. All character embellishments are my own and are not representative of what the original creators intended for said characters (although to be honest I don’t care what JKR intended because her intentions suck, I just don’t want to get sued). This story takes place seven years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and in my storyline, the events of Alice Madness Returns take place during Order of the Phoenix. My tentative plan is to have chapters uploaded every Friday morning, but I am a college student and a simple little human, so please be patient if things change.   
> I don’t want to convolute the story with the details of Alice Madness Returns, so I would like to take the opportunity to encourage you to read the wiki page for Alice Madness Returns (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice:_Madness_Returns#Plot), or, if you are interested in the gameplay, check out the wonderful playthrough that Gab Smolders did on her channel (https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLGxV8JnoT5QhCzY32AwMTG-Y5xIxBQ5af ). Also, I really encourage you, if you can, to support the creator of Alice Madness Returns, American McGee, as he is working on a third installment of the video game franchise. You can follow him on Twitter: @americanmcgee, on Instagram: @americanmcgee, or support his Patreon if you are so inclined: https://www.patreon.com/americanmcgee . 
> 
> WARNING: Also, please be aware that because this is based on the plotline of Alice Madness Returns, there will be mentions of rape, sexual assault, graphic violence, and depictions of mental illness including PTSD, depression, and anxiety. Also, from the Harry Potter side, there will be mentions of war, children involved in war, and children put into situations they should never be put in.   
> Lastly, I just want to make it clear that I do not support J.K. Rowling or any of the hate speech and false information she has published about the trans community. We give her the middle finger by perpetrating the death of the author and taking the work she made and making it better, more inclusive, and follow the message it was supposed to say: that ANYONE can be magical and that EVERYONE is worthy of love. And that hateful people of any kind all meet the same fate: beaten by love, and left alone and friendless, no matter how big their franchise is.   
> I’d like to thank the Harry Potter discord server I’m in for encouraging me to go through with this, and to my best friend, and soul partner, Kim, for being my second pair of eyes on this. This is my first real fanfiction in years, and I really hope those who read it enjoy it as much as I am enjoying working on it.   
> Please enjoy! :)

“Wild Magic, a Poor Summary of a Wondrous Discovery.”

-Written by Luna Lovegood

“This article will be more boring-ly written than usual, my apologies dear readers, but there is very much to know about wild magic and very few people willing to talk about it. One of my best friends was in possession of this magic, and though, I regret to say, I haven’t spoken to her in quite some time, her last letter informed me that she has gained control over them. I did my best to pick her mind about what she knew of it, but unfortunately, she could not tell me much. My mother was attempting to manifest wild magic when she died, and because of this, I have taken a keen interest in it. Once again, my sincere apologies for how boring this is worded, but readers have informed me that it is hard to learn when one makes no sense. Interesting. I have found much sense in nonsense, but I digress. 

It is possible in the wizarding world to perform wandless “Wild Magic.” This is very rare, very powerful magic, and manifests itself more often in witches than wizards. However, this magic is as hard to control as it is rare, and many witches (and a few wizards) have lost their minds and lives to this rare trait, either through self-infliction or unfortunate circumstantial tragedy. Victims consist of, most notably: Violet Liddell (killed via spontaneous and violent combustion in 1856), Ariana Dumbledore (killed in a three-way duel in 1899), Aeris Beaumont-Liddell (suffocated under her own vines in 1902), and Elizabeth Liddell (murdered via the killing curse cast by Death Eater Dr. Thomas Bumby, who cast fiendfire to cover his tracks and murdered her parents in the process in 1988).

Each wild magic specialty is different depending on the person, and seems to only manifest itself in family lines, like the Liddell family, nowadays. Beatrice Liddell was a renowned psychic who made several accurate predictions and was very useful in interrogations during the first wizarding war, finding out a lot of information for the Order of the Phoenix before her murder in 1988. Elizabeth “Lizzie” Liddell was rumored to be a necromancer and unfortunately joined the Death Eaters before her demise, but the truth of this seemed to die with her. Alice Liddell is adept at transfiguration to the point where she can manipulate reality and create tangible objects out of mere imaginings. Surprisingly, she is still alive to this day, though some still speculate about the state of her mind. At age six, Alice dreamt about Wonderland for the first time and accidentally brought it into reality, and as she grew older, was able to better control the magic that allowed her to bring objects from Wonderland and other dreams into the “real” wizarding world. (In my opinion, I find it hard to believe that we can call this world the real one, for all we know, we are always walking in dreams and Alice has simply woken up.) As far as we all know, Alice Liddell is the last remaining wild magic-user in Britain, however, as the wizarding world here seems very bent on persecuting those who jump the lines of what we consider normal, I think any like her will follow her out of Britain to places where their kind may be more accepted. And I don’t blame them, though I wish I could come along.” 

  
  
  


“Madness has come to Marlow: Liddell Returns”

By: Rita Skeeter

“The reconstruction of the destroyed Liddell house has been the talk of the town for a few years now; the idea of bringing the old victorian farmhouse out of the ashes was one that caused many a whisper, mainly, “What kind of witch wants to live in her own murder house?” And I must say I agree. The gates barred my way this morning when I tried to get a glimpse of the old Liddell estate, hiding everything behind them in mists and rude words (I must say, whoever Liddell hired to place the wards around the place and the lively charm on the gates to make them speak was quite talented, if you’re reading this, love, tell ‘em to send an owl my way!), but though I may not be able to give you the devilishly delicious info on the house itself, I can certainly dish on the devilish new occupant. 

Alice Liddell, 23, is _quite_ the little firecracker if you know what I mean. Loyal readers of _The Prophet_ should be familiar with the name, as I wrote a lovely little article back in 1995 about Liddell and her murderous misadventures. I won’t go into the juicy details here, so go fetch yourself an old copy for my brilliant insight! A brief summary should suffice:

The Liddell family has always been a bunch of weirdoes, with Bridgette and John’s arrival from France causing a large uproar in the British wizarding community. Two pureblooded magical folk, rich as all get out, left their teaching jobs at Beauxbatons to _farm_ , and then sell their products to muggles, of all people! John was always noted as being borderline obsessed with muggle studies (he should’ve married one of them if he loved them so much, ha!) and Bridgette, well, everyone knows of her psychic prowess, but **I** remember those big, empty eyes and vacant expression (and besides, if she was so gifted she should’ve been able to predict her own demise, wouldn’t you think?). Of course, their weirdness was passed down to first daughter Elizabeth, who was rumored to be able to reanimate the dead. I remember very clearly the day I tried to get an interview of the cursed girl at Hogwarts, but unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore drove me out, and I couldn’t catch that slippery little Ravenclaw no matter how many times I tried. Poor thing met an ironic end, of course, we all know the story, but I can’t help but wonder if little Lizzie would have survived if she wasn’t so set on joining fellow freaks among he-who-must-not-be-named ranks. Not that he would have let her in, even he had standards (I crack myself up)! But I digress. It’s Alice Liddell that’s the most interesting freak of the family, and as I stated above I wrote much about her all those years ago (back when the only wrinkles I had were in my blouse, cheeky!), but a lot more details have unearthed themselves, dear readers, so let’s catch up. 

Alice Liddell is probably best known for being the prime suspect in the murder of her parents and sister back in 1988. The poor thing, 8 at the time, was discovered on the lawn while her house burned in hysterics, claiming that it was her fault and that she could’ve saved them, again, you know the story, loves! At the time, she was not charged as the deaths were ruled to be an accident due to early manifestations of magic on Alice’s part, and she was left under Dr. Thomas Bumby’s care in the muggle orphanage he oversaw. The unlucky minx also spent a year in Rutledge Asylum, a horrible muggle creation that reportedly treated patients with “traditional treatments” for insanity.

Now, we know the rest of the story as I told it back in ‘95, but here’s where things get juicy. Turns out, Thomas Bumby was not a muggle, as he had convinced the wizingamot and general wizarding public, but one of the higher-ranking members of the Death Eaters, and had actually been the one to murder Miss Lizzie and set the Liddell house ablaze with fiendfire, killing the parents who were unable to stop the raging blaze. Alice apparently put this all together in ‘96, and my sources say that when she did, the memory hex Bumby had put on her almost did the tenacious thing in, but she miraculously survived, neglecting her studies at Hogwarts in the fall of ‘97 to hunt down and kill Death Eaters and Snatchers who were attempting to round up Muggle-borns, smuggling said refugees out of the country through methods unknown to me. 

Ms. Liddell is apparently as “gifted” as her mother and sister, being able to transport herself to and fro a world called “Wonderland” (I cannot make this up, loves! Refugees whom Alice helped smuggle out swear that this place is real, and that they stayed there for short periods of time with her until she could transport them to a safer place, but stress does funny things to the mind…). According to witnesses, the girl had (possibly still has) the ability to transfigure the dead space around her, creating things out of nothing and taking apparating to a whole new level. My sources say that Little Miss Wonderland took out at least twenty Death Eaters with an enchanted dagger before the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. I would say this number is impossible for a girl who barely tops 160cm and is as starved for nourishment as I am stories, but eyewitnesses say she did not work alone. According to my sources, she conjured “friends” from Wonderland to help her in her task, and through her actions, several families were saved before the final battle. She also served as a communication line for the rebels still at Hogwarts; not-to-hot poster boy rebellion-leader-turned-Hogwarts-professor Neville Longbottom outright refused my attempts to interview him, but a glance at that jawline was worth it! I got the scoop anyway from my exclusive source, who told me that Liddell funneled information to a reportedly close confidant Blaise Zabini, who then spread it to Longbottom and the other resistance leaders in the months leading up to the battle. 

_Speaking_ of the final battle, when I tell you Alice Liddell is a little firecracker I _mean_ it. Apparently, the girl brought her Wonderland friends with her there, ticking off more Death Eaters that were on her list. She also ended up having a final reckoning with Bumby-- the duel between the two was so ferocious that Liddell’s wand exploded (that would end most people’s ability to use magic, but not this special snake) and ended with Liddell using wandless magic to slam Bumby against the floor, rendering him immobile, and stabbing him to death, kicking his corpse off of a broken banister. Gruesome girl. My exclusive source informed me that Liddell was also responsible for the destruction of the diadem Horcrux, throwing it into the fiendfire conjured up by one Vincent Crabbe (a rather stupid fellow… died to his own spell, not realizing that fiendfire only burns itself out and can’t be put out by other means). She also took the final stand against he-who-must-not-be-named with Longbottom, using those “gifts'' of hers to turn a deck of muggle playing cards into an army of grotesque card soldiers (I shudder at the description given to me by my source; the skulls, the bloody holes in the middle, the spears… ghastly things from a ghastly girl). 

Little is known about Liddell after the battle. Apparently, she fled to Paris, as some magical folk (me included!) were a bit unnerved by her… talents. She finished her schooling at Beauxbatons, where she was joined after a year by (only?) friend Zabini. I’ve heard twitterings that the two became exclusive, but my exclusive source told me these twitterings are just rumors (not very fun now, is that?). However, Alice did become quite the little minx-- my sources in Paris told me that she and Zabini were quite well known in the party scene, and the two didn’t do much after graduation besides spending their parents’ money and drinking ‘til they dropped. 

Some of this spending came to Marlow, as the ruined estate, abandoned and ignored, soon became a place of buzzing activity as reconstruction started in 2002. Now, trust me my loves, I tried to get on the scene to get the scoop from the workers, but Liddell’s hiring practices are that which must constitute unshakable loyalty, for I was barred entry not only by spell but by the workers themselves, who informed me that “the general public are not allowed.” _General public._ Can you believe? Me, a member of the general public! Pshaw! 

Anyhow, two years later, the estate is apparently back to working order, and Mr. Zabini has returned to his oddities shop after closing it for a few months. Liddell was sighted in Diagon Alley yesterday morning buying goods. I, of course, was on the scene as soon as I caught the scent, and upon asking Liddell if she could spare me a word, the slippery little minx, clad in a beautiful black off the shoulder gown and the prettiest celestial cloak I’ve ever seen gave me some pretty ugly words:

“I’ll give you two words, Skeeter: F**k. Off.” 

You can imagine my shock at such vulgar language from someone dressed to the nines in Diagon Alley of all places-- I suppose it’s true what they say: you can take the girl out of the madhouse but you can’t take the madhouse out of the girl, no matter how high-class she may appear. I suppose we may be hearing arrest reports soon- you didn’t hear this from me, but I’ve heard Minister Granger has people watching Liddell quite closely, and was hoping that that visit to Diagon Alley included Ollivander’s, which it didn’t. As we all know, wandless magic is illegal in Britain, so it’s time to sit back and wait to see how long before the madness breaks loose. I for one, have my popcorn at the ready and am eager to see the bacon hit the fire. So long for now my sweets, and though Liddell lives in the countryside, if you’re reading this from Marlow, I’d advise you to keep a tighter grip on your wands.”

______________

A sigh fell from Hermione’s lips as she laid down that day’s copy of _The Daily Prophet_ on top of the edition of _The Quibbler_ she had read before turning to Skeeter’s article. Her brown eyes, exhausted from skimming policy papers and watching new legislation be penned underneath them, caught the eyes of the woman in the photograph accompanying Skeeter’s article. She was exiting Gringotts and attempting to push through a crowd, scowling at the people blocking her way as if they were responsible for more than just being in the way. However, when she turned towards the flash of the camera, her eyes flashed with mysterious mischief, and a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. Her manner seemed to say, 

“Are you watching?”

Hermione sighed again and squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to fight off the coming migraine. She hated to admit it, but Skeeter was right. She _had_ been on edge since hearing that Alice was coming back to Britain. She _had_ been dreading what Alice would do… or rather, neglect to do, upon her arrival. She had sent an owl to gently remind Alice that if she intended on coming back to England she would need to purchase a new wand, but that had been ignored. Alice wasn’t necessarily a problem, she had been a kingpin in the Second Wizarding War, but her methods were…. Rudimentary, barbaric, downright twisted and gruesome at times, the words rolled through Hermione’s mind, each one bringing another throb to her temples. Alice had always sat _wrong_ with Hermione; she just always had that silly sense of entitlement that came with most Slytherins, expecting Hermione, Ron, and Harry to simply trust her because she said she could be trusted, and though she had not necessarily done anything to prove herself wrong, she was just… _odd_. Odd, but not like Luna Lovegood, whose oddness she had learned to find endearing, but a menacing sort of odd, the kind that was viciously unpredictable. 

Hermione _tried_ to be fair, she _tried_ to be understanding to everyone, _tried_ to make legislation that would be more inclusive but wandless magic… _wild_ magic… they were both very unpredictable and unstable. As minister, she was committed to her pledge to make the wizarding world accepting to **all** , but she was also committed to the safety of her citizens. The election had been _hell_ , and she barely gained the position as the youngest Minister of Magic, and now, not even seven months into her first term, Alice was coming in to potentially upset the peace Hermione had worked so hard to keep. She didn’t want to step on Alice’s toes-- the best way to win people over was to work _with_ them, not against, but it seemed like Alice was determined to stomp on some toes herself, like usual. 

Hermione turned away from the publications and bit her thumbnail, looking into her fire. What to do… She knew what the laws _told_ her to do, but Alice had proven time and time again that laws were beneath her, and Hermione simply did not have the energy. She steeled herself:

‘Get it together, Granger, you’re the youngest Minister of Magic ever, and you **earned** that title with your blood, sweat, and tears. You have to do what needs to be done. You can’t make things better if the environment is chaos.’

With that, she grabbed a hand of floo powder and tossed it into the fire. A couple words brought two heads into her grate, pushing each other as if fighting for room. 

“Seriously, you two. It’s like you never aged past sixteen.”

Her husband pouted at her.

“Come off it, Hermione, I thought we’d be saving time by using the same fire, and it’s not my fault Harry’s head is so big!”

Harry Potter laughed, giving his best friend one last shove, then sobered as Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose again.

“What’s the matter, Hermione? Is Mundungus giving you trouble again because I’ll-”

“No, Harry, it’s not that. We- we have a predecessor to a problem on our hands.”

“What the bloody hell are you on about now? Seriously, woman, you’re already turning yourself grey over the problems we have, and now you’re on about problems that _might_ happen? I thought you hated divination!”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I don’t _hate_ divination, Ron, I just think it’s useless. And besides, you’re missing the point, it’s- it’s… the house is done, and apparently, Blaise Zabini has re-opened the oddities shop, which means there may be a rise in illegal goods being traded, but all of these events…” 

She paused, another sigh falling heavily from her lips. 

“Alice Liddell has returned to London. And I have a feeling she has brought future problems with her.”


	2. A Woman who Grows Curiouser and Curiouser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning dawns on the Liddell house as the occupant rises to greet the day- and the unwanted invitations it brings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song featured in this is "Babooshka" by Kate Bush.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it, and Happy New Year!!! May 2021 bring you all of the joy and luck you deserve.

**To have a place of one’s own,**

**To have control over one’s life,**

**One must learn to know herself and love herself.**

The sun rose without interruption by the clouds for the first time in months, bathing the Liddell house in sunlight and peeking in through the slit in one of the curtains of the third floor windows. It slowly crept unheeded through the open curtains of another window and spilled across the large bed that was pushed flush to it. A large white comforter had a woman ensnared in it, and the sunlight crept across long black hair splayed across a pillow, making its way across the woman’s cheek and causing her to stir. A small, pale hand adorned with nails painted black rose, pointing a finger at the record player that sat against the wall opposite the bed. The record began to play itself: 

_“She wanted to test her husband_

_She knew exactly what to do:”_

She stretched, yawning, and blinked open her eyes, beginning to untangle herself from her comforter. 

_“A pseudonym to fool him_

_She couldn't have made a worse move”_

The woman seemed to think better of it, and flopped back down into the fluffy comforter with a groan. She knew she had to get up, but her body ached from the twisting and turning she had done the night before. She had slept, but not restfully. 

_“She sent him scented letters_

_And he received them with a strange delight_

_Just like his wife”_

The sun had now reached the height of morning, and the warmth on the woman’s back gently reminded her that staying in bed another minute would keep her there all day, leading to another restless night and more aches than she already had. She heaved a sigh, stretching again, and sat up, the straps of her plush cami falling down her shoulders as she surveyed the room around her.

_“But how she was before the tears_

_And how she was before the years flew by”_

Small crystals were suspended close to the ceiling, and though they had been emitting a soft, purple glow through the night, they were now clear, and threw small rainbows about the room as the sunlight refracted through them. The other window in the room was obstructed by the forest green curtains that reached the floor, and next to it stood the wardrobe. The record player sat on top of a shelf that held books, coffee-stained notes, little nic-nacks, and a couple of teacups, one of them chipped. Ivy that seemed to have no source had draped itself around the shelf, spread to the wall behind it, and sprawled itself above a small desk with a couple of notebooks (one very stuffed and worn and the other clean and well-kept), reaching and growing around the door to the accompanying bathroom. Dried flowers hung on the walls, along with posters depicting the anatomy of mushrooms, maps of faraway places, and drawings of rabbits in waistcoats and large, grinning cats. Above the bedroom door hung two banners that intertwined; one an emerald green with a silver snake winding its way back and forth, the other a powder blue one that depicted flying horses pulling a golden carriage behind them. A potted plant sat on a shelf that had seemingly grown out of the wall next to the bed. It was a beautiful plant, a bundle of leaves with flowers slightly resembling a cross between lavender and lilac blooming from them. The plant emanated a slight mist from it, making the room cool and filling it with the scent of lavender and clean linen. 

_“And how she was when she was beautiful_

_She signed the letter”_

The woman closed her eyes, rolling her head to stretch her neck, and breathed in the calming scent as the music swelled.

_"All yours_

_Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya_

_All yours_

_Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya"_

Finally fixing her straps and clamoring out of bed, the woman tapped the glass on the side table next to it, and yawned again as it filled with water, taking a sip once it had finished. Letting go of the glass just to have it hover in midair, she faced the shut curtains and made a slow, sweeping motion with her hands. As the curtains slowly drew themselves open, the woman grabbed the glass and made her way to the bathroom, reaching underneath the waistband of her plaid green pants to scratch the back of her lower hip. 

_“She wanted to take it further_

_So she arranged a place to go”_

White tiles reflected the light as the woman entered, squinting at her reflection in the mirror that hung between two lanterns before her. Large green eyes squinted back at her, doing a quick once-over of the dark circles underneath them and the pale face that was puffy from exhaustion. Her long black hair seemed confused from all of the different directions it had been thrown in during the night in an attempt to keep it from getting tangled and caught beneath the woman’s shoulders. 

_“To see if he_

_Would fall for her incognito_

_And when he laid eyes on her_

_He got the feeling they had met before_

_Uncanny how she_

_Reminds him of his little lady”_

Basic necessities taken care of, the woman shook off the sleepiness and padded back to the bedroom, guiding herself through several stretches in an attempt to push energy into her weary muscles. Sipping once more from the glass, she gazed over her bed (now making itself) out of the window. Countryside sprawled out before her, a pond sparkling in the morning light on the outskirts of the bordering forest. Her eyes lingered over a spot by a lone tree where grass, grown tall due to the spring rains, obscured a rather large rabbit hole. 

_“Capacity to give him all he needs_

_Just like his wife before she freezed on him”_

Amazingly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and at a snap of her fingers, the windows opened, letting in the lush morning air. Birdsong drifted into the room, acting as back up for the song as the woman summoned two robes towards herself. 

_“Just like his wife when she was beautiful_

_He shouted out”_

As she layered herself in her house robes, the woman took in her room once more, and felt pure joy bubbling up into her chest for the first time in years. This was _her_ room. In _her_ house. Sure, it was built upon the literal ashes of her family’s home, but she had made sure she was represented in every nook and cranny of the house, right down to the anti-fire enchantments. She was **home**.

_“I'm all yours_

_Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya_

_All yours_

_Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya_

_All yours_

_Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya"_

Alice Liddel burst from her bedroom, singing at the top of her lungs and swishing her black, faux-fur lined outer robe from side to side as she danced down the hallway towards the turret, and down the turret stairs.

_“Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya_

_Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya”_

She reached the second-floor landing, twirling and still singing, and paused at the top of the grand staircase that swept downwards towards the front door of her home. The pause lasted as quick as the decision, and she laughed wildly as she slid down the banister, bare feet hitting the first floor with a pleasing thump. 

_“Babooshka, Babooshka, Babooshka-ya-ya_

_Babooshka-ya-ya”_

The song drew to a close (curiously the volume hadn’t grown smaller as Alice strayed farther from the source, but seemed to echo through the whole house), and with the lift of a finger the finger on the record player also lifted, and it stilled. Alice breathed a contented sigh and made her way to the kitchen, pointing at the large windows above the front entryway to the house and smiling as the fresh air made its way through them. The kitchen was cozy- copper pots and pans hung on hooks above a very large hearth that an oven was nestled into. Light filtered in through the windows that lined the opposite wall above the sink, and dried herbs hung in the sills, their lush former habitats growing in planters beneath them. A small table with a couple of chairs that acted as a breakfast nook sat across from the stove, a place for one already set. 

Alice waved a hand, making the fridge next to the doorway open, and a couple of slices of bacon float out, followed by two large eggs. A pan lifted itself off of the hook and set itself upon a burner as she guided the bacon to nestle itself into it. A flame kindled itself in the burner as she snapped her fingers, and she plucked the eggs out of the air, strolling over to the stove to crack them. She concentrated as she worked to keep the yolks intact, and without looking, she pointed at a bag of coffee beans on the counter to her left. A handful of beans flew into the grinder next to the bag, the grounds fell, only to be caught in a filter that had appeared below them, and the filter laid itself over a small carafe as a tea kettle filled itself with water and sat itself upon another burner, flame already burning underneath it. 

Alice was so wrapped up in her cooking that she didn’t notice the sleek tawny owl glide into the kitchen and drop a letter on the table, swooping back out as soon as the envelope hit the polished wood. It was only when she had begun to tuck into her meal, steaming mug of coffee next to her, that she noticed the cream-colored letter in front of her, the light blue ink shining in the sunlight. 

“To Miss Alice Liddell

The Liddell Estate, Marlow, England”

There was no return address, but as she picked it up and turned it over, the gold wax stamp caught her attention. A ministry seal. She rolled her eyes, tearing at a piece of bacon with renewed viciousness. 

‘This ought to be good.’

She opened the letter, sliding out a very official- very fancy- piece of parchment, and began to read.

“Dear Ms. Liddell, 

Welcome back to England. You have arrived at a wonderful time, as you surely are aware that the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is upon us. You probably do not know this, but we celebrate the defeat of Voldemort by hosting a ball and feast for those who participated in the battle. I am happy to extend your first invitation to our fifth annual Victory Ball, happening tonight. I realize this owl is reaching you very late, so you need not send an RSVP. I also completely understand if you do not show. I am sure you’re very busy getting settled into your new home. I will ask, however, that you attend our class’s next Peacekeep Meeting being held next week at the Boar’s Head Inn-- we are down our only Slytherin representative, and I would love to hear your insights on our plans moving forward. I have sent an identical invitation to Mr. Zabini, and I must impose on you the importance of these meetings now that you are back in Britain. We are still working to make sure the peace we all sacrificed so much for stays in place, and we cannot do that without equality; that includes between houses. I would be remiss to hold the meeting with no Slytherins present. I hope this letter finds you well and you consider attending both events. 

Sincerely, 

Hermione Granger, Minister of Magic.

Alice rolled her eyes again as they finished reading the letter, her joyful mood blistering in annoyance. It hadn’t been the type of summons she had been expecting, but she still felt the hidden tone behind the polite wording. Hermione could not care less about the ball, but Alice knew that the meeting was a test. If she and Blaise failed to show… 

Her train of thought was represented by a chipper yet ghostly voice ringing out.

“Excuse me, Miss! A visitor is at the gates!”

“Who is it?” Alice asked the disembodied voice. 

“Blaise Zabini, Miss!”

“Let him in, House, thank you.”

“Of course, Miss!”

Alice smiled. The enchantment she had placed on the property to give the house itself a voice had been an extremely complicated one, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that it had worked. She made a mental note to write the Enchanter she had worked with and thank him for his help. She did not go to the door; she had no need to, for as soon as the house fell silent again there was a loud popping noise in the kitchen, and Blaise sank into the chair next to her with the graceful ease he seemed to do everything with, an identical letter held between two fingers.

“Who is it? Seriously woman, who else would be visiting?”

“You’re lucky,” Alice mused through a mouthful of egg, “that House even spoke to you. There’s been a line of morons gathered outside since I came home with the groceries yesterday morning. I asked House to only enquire about important guests, and to tell the rest to find entertainment elsewhere.”

Blaise snorted.

“Lucky. I am a _very_ important guest for your information. And whatever House told them worked. The road was empty when I came up to the gates. Do you have any black coffee left, or did you ruin it all?”

Alice rolled her eyes and flipped him off, too preoccupied with her food to dignify him with a verbal response. She hadn’t been expecting him and had only made enough for one mug. She was not sorry. 

Blaise picked up the letter she had discarded, and Alice regarded her friend as he began to read. His sharp brown eyes ate up the letter as he absent-mindedly caressed his close-cropped beard with his free hand. She liked watching Blaise concentrate; it made her feel like she was witnessing something miraculous every time his eyes narrowed in concentration. Blaise was the smartest person she knew, and there were times she wished she had his Legilimency so that she could see into his mind and watch the genius happen up close. He was, and always had been, a quiet man, but was only so because his mind was anything but. Alice had often told him that being a Legilimens was a gift, but he had always shook his head at her words with a wistful smile on his face.

“Yeah, it’s all great until you can’t hear your own thoughts over everyone else’s. Not to mention what happens when you decide to spend your time with someone who has the loudest mind you’ve ever encountered.”

Alice knew better than to interrupt him verbally; her thoughts had probably already done so anyway, so she continued to study him. Blaise had also always been very handsome: the easy grace that he carried himself with was in his bones, and Alice had tried to capture it in drawings but had always been unhappy with the results. She had tried to ask him once how he did it, how he was so effortlessly elegant, but he only smirked at her and replied,

“Alice, if you think I’m fit, just say so.”

To which she had taken his finished Charms essay and smacked him over the head, saying,

“You know full well what I think, you cheeky bastard! Merlin, you’re one narcissistic comment away from turning into Draco.”

Alice downed her last bite of egg with coffee and sent the plate and fork to the sink, watching Blaise finish reading as the dishes began to wash themselves. He pursed his lips, sat the letter down next to his own, and sat back with a sigh, holding his face in his hands for a moment. Heaving another sigh, he peered through his long fingers at her. 

“You’re doing that weird thing again,” he muttered.

“Sorry, I just like watching you think.”

“That sentence within itself should inform you how weird it is.”

“So? Feeling special? Granger says she’d ‘be remiss’ if we weren’t there.”

Blaise snorted again.

“Don’t know why she bothered; she should’ve just made a summons for us. You know what that meeting is going to turn into. Fucking hell, we’ve barely been here for forty-eight hours.”

Alice leaned back in her chair, hands wrapped around her mug. 

“You know Granger,” she mused, “Always has to be ahead of everyone else.”

They sat in silence for a moment, minds churning. Alice spoke first.

“It’s going to be more of a pain not to go, unfortunately. The ministry is waiting for a chance to jump on our arses, and honestly, I’d _love_ to talk about ‘their future plans,’ if they actually have any.”

“Granger has been changing a lot of legislation, so don’t get too har- wait a minute. You’re not serious?”

Blaise had caught on to Alice’s intent, and she grinned at him.

“Why not? They’re going to find out one way or another, and I have a feeling that we can’t ask forgiveness before permission when it comes to this.”

“Alice, when, in your life, have you ever asked permission of any of them for anything? Do you honestly expect Granger and the others to react well to our plan?”

“God, no, Blaise, I’m not stupid. I’m not scared of Granger, and I’m not scared of the ministry, and I plan on making that known. Are you with me?”

“Of course I’m with you, but you’re not making sense. The whole reason I had to work so hard to get you back here is that you didn’t want to deal with the ministry. So what changed?”

“What changed is that Granger has reached out first. She wants to do things her way since we’re back in her territory. So, we play on her board, but with our rules. I say we go to the ball tonight, show everyone that we’re not trying to hide from the press or ministry, then go to that meeting, lay down the law, and tell Granger that she can work with us or lose at her own game.”

Blaise considered this, drumming his fingers on the table. Alice bit her lip, fidgeting. She was a confident young woman and had felt assured in the decision she had come to whilst watching Blaise think, but she knew that confidence would dwindle if there was no one to help fan the flame, and Blaise was much better at talking to others than she was. The friends had grown apart slightly after their graduation from Beauxbatons: Blaise had decided to open a small oddities shop in England and traveled back in forth between business and partying, and for Alice, social life in Paris did not take much effort, and it was easy to disappear when needed. Now that they were back in their home country permanently, however, everything was familiar and unfamiliar all at once, and Alice needed Blaise’s steadfastness and calm in order to keep herself so. 

Blaise looked at her, his eyes boring into hers. She never knew if he was using Legilimency or simply seeing straight through her when he did this, but she did not waver and met his gaze head-on. He nodded, a grin slowly spreading across his face. 

“Alright, Liddell, you’ve convinced me. But if we’re really going to show them up, we’ve got to do it in style.”

“Well, _obviously_ , Zabini. We’ll go by the old Paris rule: be the prettiest people in the room, no matter what.”

Blaise let out a hearty laugh; he didn’t do it often but Alice loved when he did: it was rich and full and always made her giggle along. 

“Like that’ll be hard; half our classmates are married with broods left at home, and I can’t imagine they’ll look too well with all those sticks up their arses.”

Laughter filled the Liddell house for the first time in fifteen years, and the sunlight seemed to shine a little brighter in the spring morning. 


	3. Late With a Very Important Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fifth Annual Victory Ball is interrupted by a couple of late arrivals-- you'll never guess who.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for how late this chapter is! In all honesty, this past week was not very kind to me. I'm American, so the climate is far from peaceful, and it doesn't help that my mother contributes to the turbulence. Personal problems aside, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! This is a wonderful distraction from everything going on for me, and maybe it can be the same for someone else. :)  
> Keep your heads up!

As evening began to drape itself over London, the street outside the Royal Opera House was buzzing, but not for the usual reason. The famous theater had been closed all week due to “Emergency Renovations,” or so it said on the blocked doors. Not a word had been said about what these “Emergency Renovations” consisted of; all that  _ The Evening Standard _ said was that there had been a gas leak that damaged the theater. Not a citizen of London was surprised at this report-- it was the same every year. Every year at the beginning of May, the renowned theater was closed for a week and a day, due to the same gas leak. Londoners complained of lazy line layers and an even lazier Parliament, but the Prime Minister knew full well that it was not due to laziness that the gas leak seemed to befall the Opera House once a year: it was because of  _ them. _

Every spring since 1999, the Minister of Magic would hold a meeting with the Prime Minister (whom she referred to as the Muggle Minister, which he found rather annoying), and discuss the “Victory Ball.” The Prime Minister knew full well the reason for celebrating: he still sometimes awoke in a sweat from a nightmare about the dark days when “he-who-must-not-be-named” (as the then Minister of Magic called him) was wreaking havoc across the country, murdering, torturing, and spreading fear across England with reckless abandon. Those years had been worse than a nightmare; the Prime Minister had been completely and utterly helpless and could do nothing more than sit by and watch as his people were hunted like wild game. So, when Kingsley, his personal wizard guard, came to his place of hiding and told him that the war was over, relief couldn’t come close to describing his reaction. He was more than happy to allow Kingsley, then Minister of Magic, to host an annual celebration, and he didn’t care what his citizens thought-- if they only knew. 

Though odd and suspicious, the closing of the Royal Opera House remained just that with the muggles of London. The few that had the curiosity and guts enough to try to investigate more always seemed to end up home in an odd state, with no memory of what they’d been doing before. The whole thing was shrugged off, even down to the second to last night of the closure, when the “odd” folk would be around. As the evening would come, so would the weirdos- people dressed as if attending some grand gala would begin to appear all along the streets surrounding the Opera House, and some people even saw them go in as if no signs or barriers barred their entrance. Most had chalked it up to some rich people buying their way to an extremely fancy party, but even for rich people, the outfits were… outlandish. Some were normal, elegant threads, but others… 

That particular evening saw a woman, covered in tattoos that almost seemed to be moving, skipping along in a dress that seemed to have been made by hand. Pink and black tulles of different patterns and transparency draped over each other, and fabric hearts of the same color seemed almost pasted all over the skirt, the highest one at the very bottom of the black corset that adorned the woman’s waist. Her curly white-blond hair seemed to have faced an attempt to be wrestled into a bun and lost, the escaped locks bouncing with her as she skipped. Smaller versions of the hearts on her dress had been pinned in several places in her hair, along with a flower crown of pink and white peonies. The woman skipped right up to the barriers at the Opera House, humming a tune which none of the people around her recognized, and looked with big silvery eyes at the notices around the building. She turned, walked around to the side street where several other fancily-garbed people were milling, and stopped, bouncing on her heels as if waiting for someone. That someone appeared, walking around the back of the building, shortly afterward. This woman was tall, with raven-black hair cropped close around her head, and was wearing a beautiful ballgown that seemed to mimic a butterfly; the navy blue of the tight top slowly fading into a rosy pink as it swept out on the bottom. Her heels clicked as she made her way to her companion, who lit up at the sight of her. 

“You look beautiful,” said the tall woman, her soft voice bubbling out like a brook with her Scottish accent. The blonde woman beamed. 

“You look just like a flower fairy. Did you win a contest of riddles with one for the dress?” 

Cho Chang’s laughter filled the alleyway as she and her companion for the evening, Luna Lovegood, joined the queue forming at the scaffolding constructed onto the side of the Royal Opera House.

____________

“I have to go in through the scaffolding? That seems a bit crass for such a grandiose event.”

Alice voiced her thoughts aloud as she applied her makeup, a brush working its way through her hair on its own. 

“Why they would have it in a place swarming with Muggles is beyond me, and why they would make it with the most obnoxious and shabby entrance is even further beyond me,” said Blaise’s voice from a small hand mirror laying on the desk beside Alice. 

Alice eyed her reflection in the larger mirror in front of her, frowning at herself. She shrugged (even though Blaise couldn’t see her) and said,

“Apparently Granger isn’t too worried about it. They’ve been doing it for, what, five years now? I guess we can’t be surprised; leave it to Gryffindors to take something that should be fancy fun and make it a drab bore.” 

Alice placed the finishing touches on her makeup, her hairbrush pulling her bangs back while two small, silver hairpieces shaped into small ivy vines inserted themselves at the sides of her head to hold them in place. She stood, admiring her work. Her hair was nowhere near as fancy as it had been for the Yule Ball, but she knew now that she didn’t have to tie her hair up with enchanted butterflies to impress people. The funny thing about being Alice Liddell was that eyes, and hushed whispers followed her wherever she went in wizarding Britain, no matter what she looked like. 

“Are you almost ready? We should get going soon.” Blaise interrupted her from herself.

“I suppose,” she sighed, leaning over the hand mirror to catch a glimpse of Blaise’s foot.

“I don’t see why you’re in such a rush, we’ve missed the entrances and thus will be late no matter when we arrive. And don’t leave your mirror on the floor, Blaise, I spent too long looking for a match to mine to have it sit at your feet.”

Blaise harrumphed, his shiny shoes stopping in front of the mirror. 

“As  _ I’m _ the one who enchanted the mirrors, I will put mine where I please, thanks. You always call unexpectedly and the last thing I want is the mirror, and you, to see me indecent. And we  _ planned _ to miss the entrances and the speeches, yes, but showing up more than thirty minutes after everyone’s arrived is just plain rude.”

Alice rolled her eyes and let out a groan.

“Blaise, I- I don’t even want to get into that. If you’re so clever, just enchant your mirror not to allow me to see until you allow it. And I’m ready, I just…”

She trailed off, biting her lip. She was glad that Blaise had the mirror at his feet at the moment; she didn’t want him to see her doing so. Truth be told, she was  _ nervous. _ Everyone would be there. Everyone. Blaise interrupted her thoughts once more.

“You just…?”

“Just need to do some finishing touches. Go ahead and apparate, I’ll meet you there.”

“Alright, but I’m heading inside once I get there. They’ve made a parlor before you enter, and I’m not going to stand around with Muggles staring at me when I can be warm by a fire.”

With that, the mirror flashed, and Alice’s reflection stared back at her. She set it back upon the desk and viewed herself in the larger mirror again, turning to look at her dress. The dress was three layers: the bottom a silver slip that split open bikini-style at the top with a gold star and moon at each strap, the second layer a navy blue, silk skirt with small trails of stars spiraling up it and a slit above her right knee, and the topmost layer a matching navy tulle that draped over Alice’s shoulders and chest, the skirt falling to the floor with small white rabbits depicted hopping along the trail of stars. Live, silver moths lay on the skirt as well, flying off at moments to shift positions with each other as she moved. It wasn’t her “best” dress by any means, but it was her favorite, and as she rubbed her finger across an embroidered rabbit she felt a small sense of comfort hop into her heart. 

She pinned herself down with her gaze in the mirror, taking an assertive stance. 

“You’ve got this, Alice. You’ve overthrown dictatorships and dollmakers in Wonderland, fought in a war in this world, and still graduated close to the top of your class. It’s just a party. They’re just people. And Blaise will be there.”

Heaving a sigh, but feeling a little more optimistic, Alice closed her eyes, and with a soft fluttering noise, apparated from the house. 

______________

Alice apparated in an alleyway a block away from the Royal Opera House and shivered in the chill of the spring evening as she made her way to the building. The place wasn’t swarming with muggles, but eyes still followed her as she walked, eyebrows raised. She wouldn’t have been too outlandish had the moths stayed put and stars in her dress not emitted a soft glow, but she didn’t mind. She’d rather have been stared at for her clothes than stared at with rumors on the tips of tongues, and she paid the muggles no mind as she made her way to the Opera House. It stood, proud despite the barriers surrounding the entrances and scaffolding along the right side, and though the left side’s enormous orangery was covered on the inside, light peeked through the cracks of the blackout fabric used, and the hint of music wafted through the chill air. She made her way to the scaffolding, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to climb it just to get inside and potentially getting her dress caught in the metal mess. However, once she ducked behind the curtain, she was surprised to see a simple staircase up to a door that led to what she imagined was the second floor. As she approached the door, a wizened old voice caused her to jump. 

“What is your house, dear?”

Alice’s brow furrowed, and she paused for a moment before realizing with a start what the door meant.

“Oh! Er, Slytherin house.”

And with that, the door opened to a cozy looking parlor. A fire crackled merrily in a large grate, a small trail of ash in front of it that made Alice think some had traveled there using floo powder. A plush sofa sat in front of the fire, and Blaise was lounging on it, reading a muggle magazine. He looked up as the door closed behind her. 

“Breath-taking, as always,” he said as he took her in, his admiring smile bordering on pride.

Alice grinned back at him.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself. Honestly, I feel a little underdressed next to you.”

She had a right to. Blaise looked…  _ cool _ . He wore a neck-high tailcoat with golden embroidery that swirled up and down mesmerizingly. A cape, not unlike the one the Durmstrang boys had worn at the Yule Ball so many years ago, fell over Blaise’s left shoulder like a black waterfall with gold fur, resembling foam, trimming the bottom. A gold skull earring hung from his right ear, matching the gold rings that adorned his hand that he held out to Alice. She took it, and he slowly spun her, taking in the full dress. 

“I know it’s not the fanciest, but, I like it,” she said, slightly abashed. 

Blaise shook his head.

“You look great. Really. Shall we?”

They walked into the hall that led off from the parlor, stopping at two gilded doors at which a man was dozing off in a chair. Alice fidgeted with her dress, her palms sweaty. Nerves were gnawing at her once again, and she was feeling less and less confident with her plan. What if they made fools out of themselves? This wasn’t Paris-- the magical community here was far less showy, and far more liberal with its judgments, quiet as they may be. Doubt began to trickle in, forming a pool in the pit of Alice’s stomach. Blaise looked at her, frowning.

“Hey, what’s wrong? We’ll be okay Alice. We are, by far, the prettiest people in this room, not to mention almost everyone here  _ settled down _ . If anyone can make this a good time, it’s us. We’re the only ones who remember how to party. We’re guaranteed to have a good time.”

Alice smiled a little at his jokes, but still clenched her hands in her skirt. Blaise leaned closer to her, whispering so as not to wake the wizard by the door.

“Alice, if you want to go home, just say so. I have no qualms with turning around right now and leaving. But, I will say, you can do this. They’re not that bad. They’re just people. You are strong and proud and you have every right to be here, just like the rest of them, just like me.”

Alice looked up at him, her eyes pricked with tears for a moment, and nodded. 

“Thank you, Blaise. You’re right, of course. I don’t know what I’m so… well, nevermind. Let’s do this.”

He smiled gently at her, clearing his throat loudly to wake the doorman. The wizard, clad in amethyst dress robes that looked as if they were from medieval times, started out of his sleep and looked very surprised to see people standing before him. He cleared his throat, pulling himself up into a dignified manner, and drawled,

“Good evening, and welcome to the Fifth Annual Victory Ball. May I have names, to present this lovely couple? Though I must admit, you are… quite a bit late,” the last part was muttered in an undertone as he checked his watch. 

Alice and Blaise rolled their eyes at each other, and Blaise replied,

“Not a couple, my good man, just partners in crime, if you will. You may announce us Monsieur Blaise Zabini, and Mademoiselle Alice Liddell, thank you.”

The wizard nodded and made for the doors, but Alice interrupted him with a smile as she took Blaise’s arm.

“And sir? We’re not late. We’ve arrived precisely when we wanted to.”

The two friends grinned at each other as the wizard muttered to himself, and opened the grand double doors. 

______

The buzzing quieted as the wizard’s voice boomed from the top of the staircase that led down into the ballroom, and confused faces turned up to him as he spoke,

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Gentlefolk, may I have your attention, please. Announcing the arrival of partners in crime, Monsieur Zabini, and Madamemouiselle Liddell, of Slytherin House.”

As Blaise and Alice walked, heads high, down the staircase, the ballroom below exploded in whispers and raised eyebrows. The two paid no mind; they were too busy taking in the room before them. The orangery of the Royal Opera House had been transformed into a beautiful ballroom. Tables surrounded a huge marble floor, that, until Blaise and Alice’s arrival, had been accompanied by couples dancing, but now said couples were struck motionless, too busy staring at the new arrivals to move. Gold gilded flowers hung in huge bundles from the corners of the room, their perfume giving the room a fresh, sweet smell. 

At a table tucked away in a corner, Hermione clicked her tongue and joined Ron in an eye-roll. Harry, however, chuckled. Ginny joined him.

“Don’t know why you look surprised, Hermione. Those two? Miss a chance to make an entrance?”

Hermione huffed.

“I was just starting to think that the evening was going to go smoothly. Typical Slytherins. They have to be the centers of attention.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true. Malfoy didn’t even get announced. Just slipped in like the slippery little git he is. Why did you invite him again?” 

Ron’s tone dripped with distaste as he glared at Draco Malfoy, who had been slouched over a drink at a table also hidden away in a corner, but now was ramrod straight, bleary eyes fixed on Alice. 

“ _ Seriously Ron. _ I know he was an asshole when we were younger, but he’s gotten better. The man lost his wife only a year ago, and he’s trying to raise his little boy all on his own,” Ginny scolded her brother, following his gaze. 

“Though I must say… I am surprised he showed up,” she continued, “He’s never come before, and what with losing Astoria…” 

Hermione picked up Ginny’s trailing thought, also looking at Draco, who looked as if he was seeing a unicorn make its way to the drinks table. 

“It’s because there was a chance Alice would show up. He looks like he’s in desperate straights, and,” her voice lowered, and everyone at the table leaned in, “I heard that he’s still not gone back to St. Mungo’s. The head healer is going to have no choice but to fire him if he doesn’t start working again soon.”

Harry shook his head sadly.

“Malfoy could never do on his own. I just hope that for both his and Alice’s sake, they stay away from each other. They’re better off apart.”

“Are you kidding? Say what you will about Alice Liddell, but she’s not an idiot, Harry. Besides, look at her. She’s absolutely radiant- Malfoy’s too vain to be upstaged all the time,” laughed Ginny, taking her husband’s arm and leading him to dance as the band struck up a new tune, breaking everyone out of their stupors. 

Ron and Hermione shared a look, Ron grinning and offering his hand.

“C’mon, love, we haven’t danced at all tonight, and you’re beginning to look like you’re at work.”

Hermione scoffed, but took her husband’s hand, letting loose a gleeful laugh as he immediately swept her into his clumsy idea of a waltz. 

Across the ballroom, Blaise and Alice, drinks in hand, leaned against a wall, surveying the scene before them. Many people came and went in front of them, never interacting directly with them, but taking the opportunity to steal a glance at the latecomers. Some, however, greeted the pair. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas raised their glasses to the pair before draining them and heading to the dance floor, Ginny winked at Alice as she and Harry spun past, and Harry nodded politely in their direction, and Justin Finch-Fletchley shook their hands, beaming at Alice as he welcomed her back and told her to send an owl if she ever needed anything. Blaise turned to her as Justin left, a knowing smile on his face. 

“See? You’re a hero to the people that matter, Alice.”

A tall, lanky man approached them from the dance floor. He was wearing bright pink dress robes that clashed horribly with his long red hair, which he seemed to have tried to wrestle into a bun at the back of his head, leaving the front half to curl around his face. He tried to brush some of it behind his left ear, but the hair simply fell back into place, as there was no ear to hold it there.

“Alright, Zabini? Liddell?”

Blaise broke into a grin to rival that of the Chesire Cat’s, bouncing off of the wall and clapping George Weasley on the back. 

“It’s good to see you again, man! Alice, you remember George, of course. We got to know each other a little better back when I first opened the shop. He was kind enough to give me some pointers.”

“Had to, didn’t I? Magical oddities can easily turn into a good joke if handled properly. It’s just good business. Besides, you’re the only Slytherins who are good for a laugh, you are.”

George grinned and winked at her as he spoke, and Alice’s stomach did a small leap that made her wish she could sink into the wall. She had had quite the crush on him back in her first couple years at Hogwarts, and he hadn’t lost any of his charm. She returned his grin. 

“Nice robes.”

George laughed, but for some reason, it wasn’t as rich as it once was. Alice realized, with a sinking heart, that it had lost its heartiness when George had lost his brother in the Battle. 

“Thanks. You should’ve seen the look on Mum’s face- ah, I live to embarrass that woman. Anywho, you’ve caused quite the stir, Little-Miss-Knife-Trick, with your arrival. I hope you’re settling in okay?” 

Alice laughed but felt grateful. Finally, someone wanted to know something about her other than why she was back or what she’d been up to in Paris. 

“I am, thanks, George. How’s the shop?’

“Business is booming, as usual. Can’t complain at all, except… Well, it’s a bit hard to run the place on my own.” George looked over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on a beautiful, toned black woman in a stunning white and gold dress that mimicked armor. Blaise placed a hand on George’s shoulder, turning his full body to face the woman, who, upon further inspection, Alice realized was Angelina Johnson, the extremely good-looking former Gryffindor quidditch player. Alice remembered Blaise saying something about Angelina going pro, but didn’t care enough about the game to pay attention to what team he had said she was playing for. Blaise gave George another clap on the shoulder and said, 

“What the bloody hell are you still waiting for, mate? George Weasley, scared to ask a pretty lady to dance? Wouldn’t want word to get out about that.”

George turned, giving Blaise a small smile. 

“Alright, alright, you’ve got me cornered. Thanks, Zabini. I’ll call you over for drinks sometime. You too, Alice. Cheers!”

Blaise returned to his position next to Alice, nursing his drink. She knew that there was much discussing to do between the two of them in terms of playing catch-up with everyone else, but that could wait. The wonderful thing about having a Legilimens as a friend was that you never had to voice when you needed quiet moments- Blaise would save all of that noise for later, and Alice was grateful. She was starting to feel a little overwhelmed and was considering asking Blaise if they could go when a familiar face in a dreamy pink and black gown came bounding up to them. Alice beamed, downing the rest of her drink so better to throw her arms around her old friend.

“Luna!! You look marvelous. Did you make this yourself?”

Luna blinked at Alice, nonplussed. 

“Of course I did! Oh, Alice, it is so good to see you. I’m so glad you’ve come home. Although, oh my, you’re surrounded by wrackspurts. How can you be thinking coherently at all?”

“I’m not!” Alice laughed. 

The two held each other at arm’s length, surveying each other. Neither had changed much and at the same time, both had changed tremendously since the last time they regarded each other. Much passed between the two without words being spoken, and for a moment, it seemed as if neither knew what to do until Luna finally broke the silence. 

“Come dance! What’s the point of coming to a ball if you aren’t going to dance? Besides, Cho told me you two are quite popular at dances in Paris. Come dance with us!”

The band was picking up a waltz and Luna grabbed both Alice and Blaise’s hands, pulling them to the dance floor amidst protests from both parties. Once they were situated, Luna waved over Cho, and the two joined in a slow dance, Luna nodding enthusiastically at Blaise and Alice whilst Cho waved and raised her eyebrows at them as if to say “well?”

Blaise looked at Alice and held out his hand. She took it, and they began a slow waltz to match the tempo. Sighing, Alice glanced around her at the different couples. All classmates of hers most had matching rings on their fingers, and some weren’t even waltzing, just revolving slowly on the spot. There was nothing wrong with this, but for some reason, it caused a stirring in Alice’s heart that almost resembled fear. This could not be all that there was. Blaise picked up on Alice’s discomfort, and as they spun, he whispered,

“Pretty boring, huh?”

Alice nodded, glad he understood. In Paris, celebrations were full of joy, and  _ celebration, _ and here, the dance floor was ghostly quiet aside from the music. There were no decorative spells being shot into the air, no whoops, no lively dancing-- this ball seemed almost melancholy, which made no sense considering what it was supposed to be celebrating. It made her itch all over. This subdued ball wasn’t what they’d fought for. Blaise guided her towards the band, not breaking their rhythm, and paused, murmuring something to the conductor, who smiled and nodded along, pleasantly surprised at the request. She readied the band, who struck up a seemingly slow waltz, but picked up in pace as it progressed. Alice, beaming, glided back onto the dance floor with Blaise. 

“You didn’t have to do that. But I appreciate it.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“Of course I did, ‘Merry-Go-Round of Life’ is your favorite,” he said, picking her up for a spin as the tempo increased. 

“Besides, we were both about to die of boredom.  _ Someone  _ needs to bring life to this party, and you weren’t going to do anything about it until I pushed you to.”

Alice, picking up on Blaise’s underlying implication, looked at him with wide eyes as they waltzed more boisterously, making other couples move out of the way. 

“Blaise. You know Granger won’t be happy.”

“Oh, come on, Alice, have a little fun! It’ll be harmless. Besides, this is supposed to be a  _ celebration of Voldemort’s defeat _ . We fought too; we’re allowed to bring a little bit of nonsense into this stuffy place.” 

He dipped her, grinning.

“And, really, Alice, you’re trying to lick some boots now?”

And that was all it took. As the music grew, the two began to dance more and more vivaciously, the other people on the dance floor giving them space not out of necessity, but to watch. As they twirled and soared across the floor, the onlookers noticed that the two were grinning at each other as if privy to some big secret-- and as the music crescendoed, the secret was revealed. Alice lifted a hand, and fireworks exploded from it, the moths on her dress taking flight, and the rabbits hopping off of the dress and into the air, seeming to dance on their own. Neither Blaise nor Alice broke routine as they continued, Alice conjuring blue butterflies to surround them in beautiful blue swirls of wings that resembled water, and Blaise enchanting their shoes so that sparks flew from them. The crowd was full of “oo’s” and “aahs,”-- even Hermione, though feeling a headache coming on, couldn’t help but be impressed as the pair danced among the effects. Finally, the music hit its final rise, and with a final wave of her hand, Alice caused the bouquets of flowers to burst, their petals falling like confetti as the crowd burst into applause. The two bowed as the violins sank into a whisper, petals swirling at their feet, animals returning to their places, and were whisked away by Luna and Cho to a table. Cho excitedly showed them pictures she had taken on a camera that she had summoned from her bag. 

Alice looked away for a moment and caught Hermione’s eye. Smiling, she pointed at a full rose and made it hover over to land gently in front of Hermione-- a peace offering. Hermione gave a small smile, but made a big deal of pulling out her wand, and tapped the rose, transfiguring it into an ornate box, long enough to hold a wand. She fixed Alice with a pointed stare as if to say, 

“This is nice, but rules are rules.”

Alice rolled her eyes, turning back to her companions. Cho was taking pictures of Blaise, who had no trouble posing amidst the giggles that erupted around him. The ball had picked up in mood and energy, the band now playing livelier tunes and laughter ringing out here and there. Finally, the Victory Ball seemed to be a joyous celebration. 

“Alice, may I take pictures of you, too? I know I’ve got the ones of you dancing, but I think a profile one would be nice for the front of the article in  _ The Quibbler _ , if you’re alright with that.”

Cho broke Alice out of her thoughts, holding her camera with a hopeful look.

“Oh, um, sure. How would you like me to pose?”

Cho seemed confused by the question as if she had expected Alice to already know the answer, and Luna interjected. 

“Powerful. Draco Malfoy was looking at you as if you were a goddess. Pose like a goddess.”

Alice groaned, happy mood punctured. 

“Oh, god,  _ he’s _ here?”

“Well, of course he is! There was a chance you’d be coming, and I’m sure after losing Astoria, he feels like he needs-”

Cho was interrupted by Blaise clearing his throat rather loudly. Alice cocked her head to the side, confused. 

“Who’s Astoria?”

Even Luna looked surprised. 

“His  _ wife _ , Alice. Galloping gunshoes, I know you’ve been in a different country for the past six years, but were you under a rock too? Astoria Greengrass? She was in Slytherin, a year above us all if I remember right. She was always sickly, and got worse after she had Scorpius-”

“ _ Scorpius? Wife? _ ”

Alice was beside herself. It wasn’t as if she was upset that Draco had moved on, more shocked. How had so much happened to him in so little time? Marriage? A child? Her head was swimming. Cho’s camera had disappeared back into its bag, and she looked between Blaise and Alice with concern. Blaise seemed very preoccupied with the tablecloth. 

“Wait, you didn’t know? It was all over  _ The Prophet  _ when they got married. Same thing when Astoria died. She’s been gone for almost a year now. And he… well, he didn’t take it well at all.”

Cho glanced over Blaise’s shoulder as she spoke, and following her line of sight, Alice locked eyes with her ex for the first time in six years. He looked… horrible. In fact, ironically, he looked like Lucious when she had stormed the manor all those years ago to rescue Luna. Broken. Defeated. He had attempted to pull his white-blond hair back into a ponytail, but strands fell around his face. His blue eyes, so pale they were closer to silver, were bloodshot and looked into hers like a man starved. It wasn’t pleasant. She looked away quickly, turning to Blaise. Why hadn’t he said anything?

“I didn’t get  _ The Prophet _ when I was abroad. I… I had no idea.”

She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, of course the world she left behind would move on behind her, but so much had changed in Draco’s life, whilst hers had remained very much the same. She sighed, letting the knot in her stomach unravel as she exhaled. 

“Anything else I missed?” she said with a quiet, sad laugh. 

The others, pressure alleviated, laughed as well. Luna spoke, 

“Well, yes, but most of them are mundane in nature. Cho and I went willow wisp hunting this winter, and had a wonderous adventure, she even- oh! Neville’s coming over!”

Train of thought derailed, Luna began excitedly waving someone over as Alice felt her ears begin to burn.  _ Neville Longbottom.  _ The last time she’d seen him, he was bruised and bloodied, brave and glorious, fighting next to her in the Battle. He’d changed so much, he’d… well, he’d become the hero she had always thought he could be. Bordering on her cutthroat nature as he defended the school, yet so unlike her in his pure heroism. She remembered how, right after Draco had run to his mother, Neville stood and spoke out against Voldemort, right to the villain’s face. He seemed taller than he had ever been to her at that moment. Golden. She had written to him before the Battle, exchanging information, and knew the change that had been wrought in him through his descriptions, but  _ seeing _ him in action made her fall speechless. To her surprise, she felt her nerves returning in full force. What would she say? Would he be welcoming, like Cho, Luna, and George? Or would he be like Hermione, annoyed with her “disrupting the peace?” For whatever reason, the thought of Neville, always so unabashedly kind to her, being displeased with her return scared her more than anything Hermione could impose on her. 

She never got to find out how Neville felt, however, as at the same moment, Blaise muttered,

“Oh god, Malfoy’s making his way over here too. Ladies, I’m sorry, but we should probably-- please tell Neville we’re sorry but-” 

He looked at Alice, who looked at him with the same alarm in her eyes that had been in his voice. She knew for a fact that she had nothing to say to Draco. Not right that moment, anyway. She needed time to… she didn’t know. Her nerves turned to panic, and the candle on the table flared up, flame wild for a moment before Alice took a steadying breath, returning it to normal. She and Blaise stood at the same time, mumbling apologies. Luna and Cho stood as well, standing in front of Blaise and Alice as they made their way to the staircase, effectively blocking them off from anyone trying to approach. 

Blaise and Alice made their way hurriedly up the steps and back into the parlor, unheeded by the door wizard, who was asleep again. They stood for a moment by the fire, the heavy silence outweighed by their racing thoughts. Alice turned to her friend, who spoke before she could.

“I didn’t want to upset you. And you didn’t need to be thinking about him then.”

"Bold of you to assume I’d dedicate much thought to him. I wish you could have at least prepared me a little. Had I known he would be here-”

“I honestly didn’t think he would be. And you would have dedicated more than thought, Alice. You can pretend that you don’t care about him all you like, but if you’d known about Astoria’s death, you’d have wanted to help him, I know you would’ve.”

“Forget her death, Blaise, I didn’t even know she- I didn’t…” 

“You really didn’t expect him to move on? Alice, come on, don’t be vain. He had nothing left to do after the war other than carry on the family line. It’s all about appearances with  _ them _ , you’ve always known that. She put up with him. I mean, I thought Astoria was more self-assured than that, but I suppose she actually fell for him, poor thing. That blood curse she suffered with gave them only so much time, and from what Parkinson told me at the funeral, she wanted to have a child so that Draco wouldn’t be alone when- when the inevitable happened. Astoria was a lot like you, you know. Too good for Draco, but too kind, too focused on his potential to let go and walk away. And, to her credit, she did work to make him change himself for the better, at least a little bit. I didn’t want to tell you because… I was afraid, Alice. I was scared you’d be too kind, too focused on fixing him and get caught up in him again. And you needed to focus on fixing yourself then.”

Alice hugged herself, really wishing she had brought a coat even though the fire was making her sweat. She wasn’t angry at Blaise, she was frustrated at… the situation. She couldn’t be angry at Blaise because a part of her knew that he was partially right. No matter how much she regretted dating Draco, a small part of her (try as she might have to push it away) still cared about his well-being. But she hated being treated like a child. What was the point of trying to do something and take hold of her life if she couldn’t handle one bit of information about a former flame? She knew she had told Blaise she didn’t really care what news came from back home, but she had always assumed the “news” would be about the ministry, and it’s easier to forget people when you know nothing of their lives anymore. 

“I’m not angry at you, Blaise, but I’m not- I’m not a stupid little girl! Ugh, this all is so stupid! It’s not  _ your _ job to tell me these things! He was my friend, too. He didn’t even care about me enough to write one damn letter! He’s so… so…  _ cowardly _ that he can’t even pick up his bloody pride to at least tell someone who, at the very least,  _ used  _ to be important in his life that he has a  _ son _ . Maybe… maybe I never was.”

“Or maybe he’s so damn afraid of you that-”

“He had no reason to be! I never laid a hand on him, or his father, and that was out of the goodness of my heart. I just… this is so foolish. He’s a fool, and I’m not saying he deserves to be this miserable, but I am saying that he does  _ not _ deserve to gape at me like a dead fish. I’m not his goddess. I’m not a solution. I’m not even a threat to him. I’m just a person.”

Blaise put a hand on her shoulder.

“I know, Alice. You’re a wonderful person, at that. And you don’t deserve to have Draco ruin every dance you attend. We had a good time, yeah? We can go back in, if you’d like, I’m sure Luna and Cho can handle him, and I have a feeling there were other people there who were worth talking to.”

Alice let out a sad snort, remembering the Slug Club Christmas Party her sixth year where she had finally called it quits with Draco. Her mind wandered to Neville for just a moment, remembering how he had found her, barefoot (her feet were sore) and crying, and how kind he had been to her. How he had charmed his jacket (the fancy server’s one he had worn during the party) to drape itself over her, how he handed her one of the wrapped chocolate slugs he’d snuck out and told her she was worth twelve of Malfoy. She could go back and speak to him, thank him again for that and tell him how much it meant to her, but… 

“That’s okay, Blaise. Let’s just go home. I’ve got better wine there anyway.”

As they exited the Royal Opera House through the scaffolding staircase, shame chased Alice. She couldn’t talk to Neville. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t known what to say to him six years ago when the dust settled and the war was won, so she left before he could find her. The problem with being friendly acquaintances was that they didn’t really know each other well enough to do anything more than watch from the sidelines of each other’s lives, exchanging friendly waves and encouraging smiles. And now here she was, condemning Draco for being a coward as she apparated back to her house, running away from her problems, like a  _ coward _ .

Six years had passed, and Alice Liddell had changed greatly, yet remained the same simultaneously. 


	4. A Very Merry Un-Peacekeep Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You would think that a meeting dedicated to preserving the peace so many died for in the Second Wizarding War would be diplomatic and peaceful, but tensions clash, and tempers rise as Blaise and Alice try to get Minister Granger to help them on their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry again about the late chapter; my classes start tomorrow (!!!) so I'm a bit strung out at the moment, haha. I'm not sure if there will be a chapter next Friday- I just need to see how classes go and what my schedule is actually going to look like. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope that the length and content of the chapter make up for its lateness! Also, I just wanted to say, the character of Helena Borington belongs to the ao3 user tmkwrites ! I adore her story "The Potions Master" and I wanted to just do a fun little nod to her work, as she's who inspired me to write this! Also, the character Vixen is based on one of my Discord friends, so if you're reading this, hi Vixx! :)
> 
> I hope you all are doing well!

The day after the Victory Ball was painful-- Alice and Blaise (who would have stayed the night in the guestroom, if he had been able to make it there, but ended up on the couch) had gotten very properly drunk after they had returned, dwelling on their school days and catching up to the present, and they spent the day nursing pepper-up tea and milling about the house like sickly ghosts. After Blaise finally felt well enough to go home and the days leading up to the Peacekeep meeting went by, Alice was left on her own to answer letters sent from old acquaintances welcoming her back, burn letters sent from busybodies, and get more and more frazzled. 

“I thought,” she said to Blaise through the mirror one day as she made herself lunch, “that six years would have given people time to grow up, move on, and leave me here, alone.”

“People never change anymore, Alice, unfortunately, we just have to deal with them. I’m sure we can figure out a way to charm the perimeter of your property so that bothersome owls can’t get in.”

Alice sighed, picking at the skin near around her thumb in thought. 

“We should probably look into that. We should also probably talk about the Peacekeep Meeting. It’s in three days. If we want them to even begin to take us seriously we have to figure out how we’re going to pitch this.”

Blaise nodded, holding his mirror so that Alice could see him running his free hand over his beard, deep in thought as well. Truth be told, Alice hadn’t been avoiding the inquiries as to why she back because she thought they were annoying, but because the real reason she and Blaise had returned to Britain was to do exactly what Hermione feared they would do: disrupt the peace, or at least, Hermione’s vision of peace. 

As a fanatic of magical oddities and trinkets, Blaise had stumbled across objects that raised alarm bells in his head. He hadn’t known anything about Horcruxes until Alice brought them up back during the war. A group of them, what was left of Dumbledore’s Army that could make it, had met before their seventh year at Hogwarts to try to prepare for the year. Ginny had informed them that Ron, Harry, and Hermione weren’t returning, and Alice had gone very quiet before admitting that she thought she knew what they were being so secretive about. She had heard the term thrown about, but knew nothing about it, and had planned to try to get that information out of any Death Eaters she crossed whilst smuggling people out of the country. Blaise, upon returning to Hogwarts, headed straight to the restricted section of the library, unheeded by anyone due to his house. There wasn’t much to find- books on the subject had been taken away- but the upside to having an uncle with a little too much knowledge about the dark arts was that an owl with in-depth descriptions of Horcruxes was tapping at Blaise’s window a mere two days after he had sent his questions. 

He never wrapped his head around the fact that no one had bothered to inform anyone besides Potter and Co. about the Horcruxes. He had written to Alice, and talked in length with Neville about them, but they had nothing else to go on at the time. After the battle was won, and the full story about Voldemort and his Horcruxes came to light, Blaise couldn’t help but share Alice’s bitterness at the Golden Trio. Had the remnants of Dumbledore’s Army known… He had shuddered when he had thought of all of the times they had all met in the Room of Requirement, the diadem being within a thought’s distance, and not known. If they could have known the whole truth… perhaps things would have ended sooner. Lives could have been saved. However, as Alice had said time and time again, any person other than Harry, Ron, and Hermione was nothing more than cannon fodder. It was always them that were the heroes, they who solved the problems. Everyone else was a solution by accident. Neville had gotten lucky with Nagini, as Alice had with the diadem. 

After the Battle, though Voldemort’s Horcruxes had been destroyed, the idea of them remained in the back of Blaise’s mind, and he had visited Alice in Paris two years after the Battle, seething. He had just spoken with Kingsley, the then Minister of Magic, about the potential for other people to take powerful objects and use them for ill purposes (such as turning them into Horcruxes and making them ten times more dangerous), and he’d been turned away. Kingsley had listened to him, but at Blaise’s request to form a group to start hunting for and destroying objects with this dangerous potential, he had shaken his head. 

“If we bring attention to these objects at all, we run the risk of the wrong people looking their way. I understand where you’re coming from, Zabini, but there’s too much mystery involved. We don’t know what object could be dangerous, where it could be, or what could be protecting it. Most end up right in places like your shop, anyway, and I will say, though you’ve done a noble job of getting rid of the more troublesome items, other storekeepers will not approve of us disrupting their business, and there’s simply nothing we can do. It’s why we have tried to keep the concepts of Horcruxes under wraps as well. The risk is too big. There are bigger battles to be fought right now, anyway. There are still Death Eaters that are on the run. If you’d like to help with that, I’m sure Potter would be happy to…” 

Blaise had let him continue but declined the request to join Potter’s Auror squad, politely excusing himself and immediately apparating to Alice’s apartment to vent. Objects enchanted to be extremely powerful posed such a potential threat-- why wouldn’t anyone listen? He felt the same frustration he had when he had read his uncle’s letter years ago; how were they supposed to keep the peace they had all fought so hard to win if everyone was allowed to slip back into blissful ignorance? It was so much more complicated than rounding up Death Eaters-- they had to go deeper as a society and keep things like overpowered objects from falling through the cracks and into the wrong hands. 

Alice had been very quiet as she listened to him, nibbling at her thumb and looking at the floor. Once he had finished, slumping into the chair across from her, she had let out a heavy sigh, looking at him with tired eyes, still bloodshot from the prior night’s activities. 

“I don’t think…” she began, but trailed off, looking out the window. 

She steadied herself as if bracing for something and spoke again. 

“I don’t think it’s the idea he’s dismissing, Blaise. It’s you. _You’re_ part of the risk, as am I, as am any other Slytherin who may potentially brought up the idea. They’ll never trust us, Blaise. And though they can’t throw us in Azkaban because we obviously were fighting for the right side, we’ll never be equals with them. We’re too… I don’t know. We’re not them. We don’t belong among them.”

Alice’s words resonated with truth, but where they had defeated her, they lit a fire beneath Blaise. It had taken him years to chip away at Alice, to slowly kindle the fire back for her, too, but finally, she had obliged his pleas for her to come back to Britain and support him on his quest. He wouldn’t do it without her; they had been tackling problems and solving mysteries since they first became friends in their fourth year, and, though he’d never admit it to her, she and her friendship meant the world to him. 

Now, as they sat staring at each other through their mirrors but lost in their own thoughts, Blaise felt a tiny ounce of relief. Alice may have been perturbed and anxious at the prospect of attempting to explain their ideas, but she looked… alive again. No matter how lively she acted in Paris, she hadn’t been herself. Now that they were actively pursuing something they were passionate about, a spark had returned to her eyes, and her breath seemed to be doing something for her again. And, in an odd little way, Blaise believed that he looked the same. He clicked his tongue, sitting back for a moment. 

“I say we do it the same way I tried to years ago. Full honesty, no holding back. Granger has been pushing for investigations into places like Knockturn Alley and private homes of former Death Eaters, though that’s more on the illegal activities side of things than the objects being sold or owned themselves. I know she’s not fond of the way you use magic, but I mean, maybe we can even strike a deal with her if you get-”

“I am **not** getting a wand. It’s not the same, Blaise. I can control spells better without one; you know that. I’d cause more harm than good, and besides, we shouldn’t have to bargain our way into this. We have every right to be ensuring that the wizarding world here stays safe as they do. I do agree with you on the honesty policy, though. We’ve got the skills and the brains, and when it comes to putting ourselves in danger, We’re more than capable of handling ourselves. There’s no good reason for her to say no.”

Blaise nodded. 

“You’re right. Sorry. I’m sure she’ll find a reason though, good or not. What will we do then?”

Alice didn’t speak. She didn’t have the answers, and she knew Blaise didn’t either. Of course, there was plenty of things they could _do_ , but most, if not all, would be a blatant disregard of the Minister of Magic’s decision and could end them up in Azkaban. She shuddered, thinking of the prison. She would never be able to survive there. Blaise had a chance; he was so strong-willed and enduring, but Alice knew what happened when she was confronted with her worst thoughts and memories. She looked at Blaise, wondering what his worst memories were. He didn’t speak much of his past before meeting her, only mentioning his troubled relationship with his family. His face was scrunched in concentration, and she could almost see the gears whirring in his mind as he thought. She didn’t want to give their mission up-- not when she knew how much he cared. She had watched him pour over books on magical artifacts, listened to his lectures on the dangers of said objects, and shared his anguish at being pushed away by the community he fought to protect.

“We have to move forward, regardless of what the Ministry thinks.”

Alice broke the silence, Blaise’s head snapping up.

“But-”

“We’ll tell her like it is. These objects need to be destroyed, with or without her backing. If she doesn’t like it, fine, but we have to keep going. We didn’t nearly die for this peace just to have it overwritten in a matter of seconds if the next Voldemort gets their hands on one of these items. Granger can’t throw us in Azkaban without a reason, and if we do as we say we’re going to do she’ll never have one.”

Blaise nodded, his brown eyes far away.

“Yea. There’s nothing else we can do, I suppose. And who knows--maybe some of the others will actually listen to us.”

Alice nodded. Luna would have to be there, as would Cho, George, Dean, Seamus… and others. Even Harry might hear them out. It wasn’t that Hermione was a bad person or even a bad Minister of Magic, she was just… so unshakable in her belief that she had to be right, always. But there was a glimmer of hope. They just had to try.

“Look, let me do most of the talking. I’ll plan out what to say and how to say it, and besides, I’ve been here, around them- I know how to appeal. And, no offense Alice, but you can be-”

“Aggressive? Well, they shouldn’t test my patience and treat us like dirt and maybe-”

“A heinous bitch was what I was going to say. Sometimes you cut a little too deep-- even when they deserve it. We need to go in prepared for the worst, but with the best intentions. Just relax until we get there and let me figure out what to say.”

Alice pouted.

“Fine. I suppose you’re right- but if they start in… I’m not going to let them walk all over us for the sake of politeness.”

Blaise chuckled.

“I’d be disappointed if you did anything less, Alice. If they give us hell, we’ll give it right back.”

________

The day of the Peacekeep meeting dawned bleak, stormclouds whipping their way across the sky as the wind roared. Alice and Blaise were relieved to see that they were the first ones into the private room in the Hog’s Head Inn, even with the odd look Aberforth gave them as they ordered two coffees. 

“I’m as surprised as you are that we were invited, Abe,” said Blaise, shrugging.

“What should we expect?”

Aberforth huffed, rolling his eyes.

“A whole lot of bureaucracy bullshit, but I’m sure you know that. They’ve got different teams assigned to watching over different places, and today’s when they report anything peculiar or worrying. It’s rather pointless, if you ask me. Just an excuse for everyone to get together and show off their successes, more like. Last year, I had to basically babysit because Ron and George Weasley used the announcement that Ginny Potter was pregnant as an excuse to turn the thing into a party. What a fucking mess that was to clean up.”

Alice scrunched her nose. She wasn’t really in the mood for a party or governmental process- in all honesty, she just wanted to get the whole thing over with. There was a package of seeds at her house by now, waiting to be planted in the garden she had spent the entirety of the day before digging up. 

“Though,” Aberforth continued as he set two steaming mugs of coffee on the bar before them, “I’m sure with you two in attendance things will be a little different, eh? Meeting room’s through the door over there. Good luck.”

The two thanked him as they entered into the drafty room, Blaise conjuring a fire in the empty grate as Alice flopped into a chair at the end of the long table that was set up in the middle of the room, pulling it slightly to the side so she could be closer to the fire. Blaise took a seat to her left as she propped her feet up on the corner of the table and opened the book she’d brought with her. She’d read _La Vagabonde_ a million times over, but it was nice to remind herself that even women as spectacular and strong as Renée had to deal with difficult people. 

“You’re not going to read that during the meeting are you?” asked Blaise, eyebrow raised in a way that said ‘you-promised-you’d-be-on-your-best-behavior.’

“Of course not,” said Alice, not looking up, “unless it gets too dull to handle. All we were asked to do is show up, there was nothing in there about paying attention.”

Blaise sighed, sipping his coffee so he could hold his tongue. He loved Alice dearly- but along with her childlike wonder and curiosity that made him honored to be her friend, she also possessed a childlike attitude at times. However, he had made his peace with it- she would be the only one suffering from it in the end, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t change her. 

Just as he was wishing for a book of his own, the door opened. In walked a tall, handsome young man, a cup of tea in one hand and a notebook bulging with pages and notes under his other arm.

“Blimey, and here I thought I’d be the first one here! Blaise, it’s so good to see you! It’s been forever, huh?”

Alice’s head shot up in recognition at the soft, yet vibrant voice that bounced into the room with its owner. He sat his things down on the table to hold out a hand to Blaise as he spoke. He hadn’t noticed her yet, which was probably a good thing considering she looked as if a crumple-horned snorkack had wandered into the room. 

“Sorry, but I don’t think we’ve m-”

Blaise, who had been looking out the window opposite his seat had glanced at the man before he spoke, but cut himself off, doing a quick double-take. He was on his feet in seconds, pulling the newcomer into a one-armed hug and clapping him on the back.

“Merlin’s beard- Neville! I hardly recognized you, mate!”

Neville Longbottom laughed, making the room seem brighter and less drafty as he hugged Blaise. 

“Don’t worry, I get that a lot. I-”

He had finally caught sight of Alice over Blaise’s shoulder. His smile didn’t waver at all as he took her in-- slumped in the chair, white poet shirt open to reveal a tiny bottle hanging around her neck, feet, clad in heavy, heeled boots, still resting on the table-- she looked very devil-may-care (despite the fact that she was gawking at him), and he positively beamed at her as he greeted her.

“Hello, Alice. You look fantastic. It’s really good to see you.”

Alice blinked, struck out of her stupor by his direct address. She knew she shouldn’t stare- she knew what it was like to have eyes seemingly glued to oneself- but she couldn’t help it. Neville had undergone another transformation since she’d last seen him during the Battle. Impossibly, he had grown taller, or perhaps he just seemed taller by the way he stood. He stood straight, his chest, clad in a brown knit turtleneck with a white collar peeking out underneath, leading with easy confidence. His face had lost the chubbiness of his teenage years and was now adorned with a mustache and chiseled with sideburns that faded into stubble on his lower cheeks and chin. 

As Neville let go of Blaise and made his way to Alice, she stood, unsure of what to do or say. He was smiling at her, and she felt a smile slowly spread across her face, too, her worries about how he would react melting away. They stood before each other, unsure of what to do. Neville had obviously visited Blaise’s shop and kept in contact, but he and Alice hadn’t contacted each other since the Battle, and never been close enough at Hogwarts to constitute much physical contact. 

Alice had hugged Neville, though, once. It had been after a Dumbledore’s Army lesson, and the two of them were the last ones in the Room of Requirement. Alice had had to deal with yet another headline in _The Prophet_ about her stay in Rutledge and was feeling particularly low. She had actually been waiting for Neville to leave so she could have the place to herself (and cry) when he told Alice that he believed her innocence involving her parents’ deaths.

“I don’t think you’re a nutter- in fact, I- I think anyone who reads that stupid paper or listens to that horrible toad of a woman and thinks that a kid would kill her own family are the real nutters.”

It had been a simple statement- probably the most he had ever said to her, but his eyes blazed with a fire she hadn’t seen before as he spoke. She was so overcome by his genuine kindness that she was moved to do something she hadn’t done since her parents were still alive. She threw her arms around him, tears caught in his soft sweater vest, and could only whisper a weak thank you into his chest. 

Alice was brought back into the present as Neville extended a gloved hand to her, smile still radiant. She finally spoke, stumbling over her words in a way that was both frustrating and embarrassing.

“Hi, Neville.” 

She was quiet, shy as she proceeded, and wished she could kick herself for being so.

“You… you’ve gotten taller. You look good! I didn’t mean- you look different, but in a good way! I-”

Neville chuckled again, mercifully cutting her off as she shook his hand. 

“It’s alright, Alice, I know what you meant. You look different too- in a good way though!”

They smiled at each other, tension gone, and Neville was about to speak again when voices came closer and closer to the door. Blaise and Alice took their seats; Alice pulling hers back to its original place. Neville took off his tan overcoat, laying it on the back of the chair to Alice’s right and moving the items he had set down moments ago next to her. She caught herself staring again- Neville hadn’t just grown taller; he was built like a bear. He had put the weight he had lost during the war back on in a combination of both fat and muscle. His appearance left Alice with the impression that he hadn’t lost the edge he gained after fighting in the Department of Mysteries at the end of their fifth year, which made her stomach do an ominous leap.

She mentally shook herself, turning back to her book. Why was she being so weird? Yes, they hadn’t seen each other and he’d changed much during that time, but so had she. No reason to get all worked up. As she buried herself in Renée’s life again, she didn’t notice Neville taking the opportunity to stare at her, spilling his tea in surprise as the door opened once more, a large group making their way in. Blaise, who had been watching the whole thing in a mixture of amusement and secondhand embarrassment, waved his wand before the tea could spread to Neville’s notebook, and Neville shot him an appreciative glance before standing to greet the others. 

The Peacekeep meeting’s attendees were essentially the remnants of Dumbledore’s Army- with some obvious additions and losses. Luna and Cho took seats by Blaise, and Dean and Seamus took seats by Neville, all saying hello to Blaise and Alice before chattering amongst themselves. Hermione took the seat at the end opposite Alice, Ron to her left, and Harry at her right. Alice glanced over _La Vagabonde_ at the others filing in behind them, recognizing most and being left to wonder at others. Soon, every seat at the large table was taken, and Hermione raised her wand, shooting out some golden sparks to signal that the meeting had begun. Alice laid the novel in her lap, picking at her fingers underneath the table. She hated to admit it, but she was just as nervous as the first time she’d shown up to a Dumbledore’s Army meeting. She felt a nudge under the table and looked at Blaise, who gave her a reassuring smile. She gave him a very small one in return, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug so that she couldn’t fidget. 

Hermione stood, a business-like smile on her face as she addressed them all. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming, and to our newcomers, welcome.”

Alice felt her stomach drop as all eyes turned to her and Blaise. They weren’t the only newcomers, but the most infamous, apparently. At the ball, it had been easier to hold her head high- she had commanded the attention, but this room felt smaller and smaller the more time went on, and this attention wasn’t asked for. However, she forced herself to meet Hermione’s gaze and smile back, sweet and innocent. The Minister would not win this one. Though Alice was nervous, her tenacity and stubbornness outweighed any fear of what the people around her would think of what she and Blaise had to propose. Hermione continued.

“For those of you who haven’t been to these meetings before, I’ll go over the important bits. Helena, Vixen, Blaise, Alice, this is our way of making sure that no remnants of Death Eaters or Voldemort are trying to make their ways back into our world. I’ve tried to keep the balance between the houses here, simply because I think all of the individual skills of said houses are important, and Voldemort placed such a high importance on them, so that’s why you’ve been asked to replace the voids. Helena Borington is our new addition to the Hufflepuff representatives, Vixen Brose for the Ravenclaws, and Blaise Zabini and Alice Liddell for Slytherin.”

A pretty woman next to Ginny in a lavender sweater vest with soft brown hair blushed profusely at the mention of her name, ducking her head down, and Alice guessed that she must be Helena. Another woman, just as pretty in appearance, but contrasting greatly to Helena in terms of a much sharper, edgier, look with short-cropped, curly black hair atop her head, simply blinked and raised her pierced nose in acknowledgment. Alice assumed this must be Vixen, and was also under the impression that Vixen was not a woman to be messed with. Hermione nodded politely at them all, continuing on with her address.

“I’m really happy that you all showed, especially you, Blaise, and Alice, as we now have the most Slytherin representation we have ever had at a Peacekeep meeting.”

Alice and Blaise exchanged a look. _Shocking_.

“Since Draco… left last year, along with Zacharias and Terry, we’ve had some gaps in our radar in terms of pop-ups, so I’ll begin with asking for the reports. Vixen, Blaise, since you two have been in Britain, I will ask that you bring forward anything you’ve noticed through your businesses. Alice, Helena, I know you’ve been abroad, but if anything seemed out of the ordinary where you were, feel free to share as well. I’ll go first. Things seem to be going well in my dealings with international Wizingamot, and my eyes from the Ministry haven’t reported anything amiss in our different departments. We had to bring in one of our researchers from the Underground Department for questioning as it seems they had been trying to trade in, er, recently shrunken heads, but other than that I am pleased to report that things have been running smoothly.”

Alice blinked, not exactly sure of what that was supposed to mean, but Neville came to her rescue, giving her a little nudge to get her attention and leaning in to whisper,

“The Underground Department’s what they call Ministry plants in places like Knockturn Alley and the like. It’s not a very big department, as some can’t blend in and others lose their nerve. She tried getting people like Parkinson or Nott, but they got really offended, apparently. It’s probably what kept them from showing up here.”

Alice gave a soundless snort, whispering back.

“I can’t imagine why on earth a Slytherin would be insulted by the offer to act as a double-agent with the slimier sides of the world.”

Neville gave a small chuckle, and Alice gave her attention back to Hermione. She also couldn’t imagine Pansy or Theo wanting anything to do with the Ministry or Hermione in general. She had to hand it to the Minister, however. It took guts for the muggle-born Hermione to even attempt to include known blood-supremacist sympathizers like those two. As others around the room stood to give their reports, Alice couldn’t help but continuously fight the urge to roll her eyes or bury herself in _La Vagabonde_ again. This felt like show-and-tell, not a serious gathering to prevent insidious uprisings, and almost every report was the same: no particularly worrying news, just small troubles here and there. Cho’s report was the first to break Alice out of the bored stupor she was in.

“When Luna and I were out in Cumbria looking for Merfolk to interview for an article, we heard, well, some concerning talk.”

Alice noticed that Blaise had sat up straighter too, yet many of the others around the table seemed to look just as bored as before Cho started talking. She stole a sidelong glance at Neville and was happy to see that he was not one of them; he was leaning in, bushy eyebrows pulled together in a concerned manner. Cho paused for a moment, as if thinking of how to word what she was going to say, but Luna interjected for her. 

“Some of the fishermen and woods people we spent time with spoke of an ‘odd fellowship’ that had been sighted in different places. They wear long black robes, crowns shaped into antlers out of branches, and masks that resembled horned skulls. Apparently, they had tried to recruit some of the magical folk that reside in the seaside village Portsgrasp, and had succeeded with a few.”

Luna’s tone, monotonously whimsical and deadly serious as ever, sent a chill down Alice’s spine. To her annoyance, snickers broke out in some places, Ron even whispering a “bloody hell here we go” that was loud enough to be heard at Alice’s end and earn him a sharp elbow from Hermione. She nodded slowly, and then, carefully, asked:

“Did you two see these people?”

Cho sighed, obviously frustrated. 

“Well, no. We searched and searched, but all we could find out about them was what we could gather from the people in Portsgrasp. Apparently, it had been a few months since they’d been around.”

Hermione sat back, deep in thought, but before she could say anything, Cormac McLaggan gave a snort and sat forward.

“Well, that solves that, doesn’t it? Oddly convenient for them to disappear right when you start looking for them. That happens a lot to you two though, doesn’t it?”

“Very funny, Cormac, but the people at Portsgrasp were really concerned-”

“The people at Portsgrasp are known to be weirdos, Chang. They’re so isolated they’ve all gone mad- not to mention all their dealings with the merfolk. They’re probably just bored and looking for some attention, and what better place to get it than _The Quibbler_? I really wish I could be like you girls; you’ll believe anything.”

Alice was two seconds from opening her mouth and letting McLaggan know precisely who the attention-seeking idiot was, but received a kick under the table from Blaise, and held her tongue, settling for an annoyed sigh and an eye roll. Cho needed none of her assistance, however, saying,

“First of all, we’re _women_ , though it’s not like you’d be able to tell the difference, dipshit, and secondly, do you really think we’re that desperate as to make this all up and waste everyone’s time? If there is a group of creepy looking people trying to gather members, we should get on it sooner or later. And you, McLaggan, only wish that you were like a woman so that you could finally feel the touch of one for once in your life.” 

Alice chuckled, wishing she could applaud Cho and felt another nudge from Neville. He whispered,

“She’s incredible, Cho is. It’s about time someone verbally smacked McLaggan, I hate that he’s included here. Though, wouldn’t hurt to physically hit him as well.”

Alice snickered, whispering back,

“Well, why haven’t you?”

He shrugged.

“Haven’t had an excuse yet. Though plenty of women have more than made up for it, I’m sure. You’d think he’d learn by now.”

She shot him a glace, eyebrows raised, and he raised his back at her playfully. McLaggan had opened his mouth to retort when Hermione stopped him by shooting sparks out of her wand again.

“That’s enough, McLaggan. Cho and Luna have every right to share that information if they think it’s a concern, and I thank you both for sharing. I have heard of this… group. They call themselves ‘Prevailers.’ But I assure you both, they’re nothing but a silly little group of conspiracy theorists. They prove no real harm.”

Blaise, looking incredulous, interjected.

“Hold on-- if I may, Minister, what makes you think they’re harmless? I’ve heard rumors about them being Death Eater sympathizers.”

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it?” interrupted Ron, looking between Hermione and Blaise as if trying to smooth them over.

“They’re just rumors. Far as I’m concerned, they’re a bunch of lunatics. And, no offense, ladies, but the people of Portsgrasp are a bit… weird. I’ve got an aunt there that we don’t speak to anymore because she was convinced a talking fish told her to start placing bets in muggle horse races and tried to get us to loan her more money.”

Hermione nodded.

“Even if they aren’t as harmless as they seem, we can’t _do_ anything because we have no proof of their existence other than some misplaced letters and word-of-mouth rumors. Cho said it herself: they couldn’t find any evidence of the group. If we can’t find any other traces of them besides rumors, then, unfortunately, we can’t do much about them. However, if I have any aurors available to travel to that area,” she shot a look at Harry to confirm, which he nodded, “I’ll send them to keep an eye out. Thank you, Cho and Luna.”

Cho seemed to have more to say, but Luna put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. Hermione turned to Vixen, who spoke with a deep, smooth voice.

“I have noticed nothing strange in the section of Diagon Alley by the apothecary. However, I will say, I have a cousin in Portsgrasp, who is exceedingly normal and right in the head. I can write to her to ask for news if that will help.”

“That would be lovely, Vixen, thank you. And thank you for the report. Blaise, if you don’t mind, have you any news from any customers at your shop?”

Blaise took a deep breath, and Alice gave him a gentle kick for support. 

“No news,” he said, looking pointedly at Hermione, “However, I come with a proposition for you, if you all don’t mind.”

Hermione seemed disappointed as if she knew what was coming, but nodded. Blaise looked at Alice, who gave him a grim smile, gritting her own teeth. It was time. Blaise stood.

“As you are aware, I own an oddities shop here in Hogsmede. Since procuring the shop, I have been privy to information about rare magical items, different from the ones I usually deal with. These items are incredibly powerful, and in the wrong hands, could prove more than detrimental to the peace we’re all here to apparently uphold. I have convinced my good friend, Alice, to return here to help me hunt some of them down and destroy them. I was hoping for some help on your end. Oddly, the Ministry has kept the identities and details of some items very secret, and I was hoping you could help us out. You, Ron, and Harry, have far more experience hunting Horcruxes than we do, and though I’m fairly certain none of these items are Horcruxes, they have Horcrux-like properties, and it would make our jobs easier to have your assistance. I’ve brought this idea before the Ministry before, and they turned me down. I’m hoping you’ll be a little more open-minded.”

Whispers broke out, and surprised eyes flashed in Alice and Blaise’s direction from all sides. So this was why Alice Liddell had returned to Britain. She flashed a small, embarrassed smile at Cho and Luna, who were looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. Hermione stood, her face set in a stern look reminiscent of how Professor McGonagall used to look at troublemakers. The whispers died immediately, and Alice felt the tension grow exponentially. She knew what was coming, and prepared for the worst.

“Well, I hate to be a disappointment, Blaise, but that will not be happening. Minister Shacklebolt was very clear about his position on your little mission, and I agree with him. The fact that you have even mentioned such things here is completely out of line. Items such as those you have been describing are **not** Horcruxes-- we made sure no such things were left after the war. If we let everyone know about the existence of extremely rare, powerful, and valuable artifacts, we run the risk of someone trying to get their hands on them for the wrong reasons.”

Blaise sighed in exasperation, running his hand over his face. 

“I **know** , Hermione, that’s why Alice and I want to destroy them. They’re not Horcruxes yet, but in the wrong hands… Say the Prevailers are more than just rumors, and they get their hands on something that powerful, what then?”

“They won’t because they aren’t looking for them,” snapped Ron. “They’re too concerned about spewing half baked ideas and playing dress-up to care. Why do you want to get your hands on them, anyway? Looking for a money-making opportunity?”  
The tension in the room had reached a tipping point, and not a single person at the table looked bored anymore. If Draco had been there, he would have made a snide remark about the money-making comment being rich coming from Ron, but Blaise was not Draco. However, he had passed the point of politeness. 

“Look. You call this a Peacekeep meeting, yeah? How, exactly, are you planning on keeping the peace when you dismiss the only worthwhile information you get and turn away people actively trying to help destroy items that could destroy said peace?”

“I don’t believe you have peace in mind.”

Hermione said it quietly, but it rang in Alice’s ears as if she had screamed it. She couldn’t play by Blaise’s rules anymore.

“Ah, so that’s it, isn’t it? It’s not the idea you lot are opposed to, it’s _us_ . Can’t say I’m surprised. Or even disappointed for that matter. What, may I ask, _Minister_ , was the point of even inviting Blaise and I? Hmm? To make villains of some Slytherins when they attempt to do one good thing? It’s no wonder no one else from Slytherin wants to come to this absolute waste of time.”

Ron started as if to say something, but Hermione silenced him with a look. She met Alice’s glare head-on with one of her own.

“Yes, _Liddell_ , it is you two I have the problem with. Blaise will buy from **anyone** , and you… well, you can’t even follow the simplest of directions and buy yourself a wand. And I wanted to bring that up with you privately, but you’ve left me no choice. I am not trying to be biased, but with Blaise’s clientele and your refusal to follow rules, I don’t have much to trust.”

“Oh, fuck _off_ with your stupid Gryffindor hero complex-”

“Alice,” Blaise hissed at her, “be **civil**.”

Alice stood, slamming her book on the table, and replied through gritted teeth:

“ **I am being perfectly fucking civil, Blaise** . First of all, Granger, you know full well that I perform magic better wandless. It’s dangerous for me to use one. I can control my spells better, and you know all this. I am _so_ sorry that apparently, you can’t handle that. No one else has had a problem with that- and no, Weasley, you don’t count, you’re just siding with her because she’s your wife. If anyone else in this room- anyone!- had brought this idea forward, you wouldn’t stick your nose up at us. And as for using the items for ourselves, what for? We don’t need money, and I believe I can speak for Blaise when I say we have no interest in taking over the world. We’re just trying to help.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re not qualified-”

“NOT QUALIFIED? Not qualified? You’re kidding, right? Or have you forgotten who helped your sorry asses time and time again when you were out hunting Horcruxes? Just admit it, Hermione, you can’t stand the thought of two Slytherins doing something good for the world. You can’t see us as anything but villains in the making. You only allowed Draco here because he has no spine, and wouldn’t care enough to stand up to you when you’re berating him for a decision a fucking _hat_ made when we were eleven. Blaise and I have done more for the greater good than Draco could ever _dream_ of doing. I thought you had more sense than this.”

Hermione locked eyes with Alice again, glowering. Apparently, Alice had hit a nerve. 

“You want to know what I really think, Liddell? I think that you and Blaise can’t handle not being the center of attention for longer than two seconds, true to your house. You are a risk. You act like a child when you don’t get your way, you fly off the handle just because I’m stating a simple, universal truth: I don’t trust your motives. Why didn’t you do this right after the Battle if it was so important? Zabini’s still got connections to the dark magical world, don’t think I’ve forgotten, and you can’t do anything without making people question your motives.”

“Hey. I’d just like to remind everyone that if it weren’t for Alice, half of the people in this room would have lost their parents or siblings. She didn’t do that for herself, Hermione. Blaise tried to get as many Slytherins on our side as possible, and the ones he couldn’t, he got information out of. Not to mention they both fought in the Battle and saved my skin a couple of times at least. That doesn’t sound very evil to me.”

Neville had risen to speak, his voice soft, but his tone stern. Alice looked at him, feeling gratitude and relief wash over her. _Neville still believed in her._ He sat back down, ears red, but piece spoke, and to her surprise, Harry stood.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, but Neville’s right. It’s not fair to throw Alice and Blaise out with the rest just because they’re Slytherins. They aren’t the nicest people, which I think is fair to say, but they’re on our side. Alice destroyed the diadem, remember? And she transfigured those playing cards into those soldiers at the last moment so that I could use the distraction to get a wand and have the final go with Riddle. I don’t think I would’ve been able to pull that last one had she not caused the distraction. I think we should at least hear them out.”

Alice was in shock, and she shot a quick glance at Blaise, seeing said shock reflected in his face. Harry nodded at the both of them as he sat back down, giving them an ‘I tried’ smile. Hermione let out a sigh, massaging her temples, and was quiet for several moments. Alice breathed deeply, trying to get her anger to simmer down, and spoke first.

“Look, I get it. We are not _your_ idea of good people. Whatever. And I know you don’t want me here because I’m a ‘risk,’ or whatever. But do you really think I wanted to come back, Hermione? Here, where I know a large majority think I’m a freak, like you do? I’m here because Blaise is worried about these objects, as we all should be, and because I want to help him. I’m not here to disrupt your ‘perfect’ wizarding world, which, by the way, is not that perfect, especially considering the Minister can’t keep her cool and get over prejudices from _school._ You three can’t do everything yourselves. You can’t always be the heroes. Just let us help you, and help us in return! We just want help going in the right direction. We’re not asking your permission, hell, I couldn’t care less if you’re on board or not. We just want to do the right thing without getting arrested, or worse.”

Blaise jumped in.

“Also, what are you going to do when we do what we said, and destroy the objects? If you try to prosecute us for doing the right thing, you’ll have broken your own rules. You can’t throw innocent people in Azkaban. That’s not just.”

Hermione snorted.

“I’m not going to arrest either of you. I have no evidence. I might as well arrest the Prevailers while I’m at it. But you aren’t getting any help from me, Liddell. Nor from the Ministry. You want to do this? You really, actually want to help? Fine. If you’re so dedicated, you can do it yourselves. But if I get any impression that you two are up to no good, if you put a single toe out of lie or endanger any civilians-- I will come down on you with the full force of the Ministry. I don’t expect you two to get very far anyway. I heard about your escapades in Paris. You’ll get bored with this, and you’ll go back to partying away, not a care at all for the adult world. We sacrificed so much to protect our futures, and I will not have that squandered because you two got greedy and decided to use something like the Pensieve Camera to further your own interests.”

Alice nodded, anger fully returned. She had had enough of being talked to like a child. 

“Right, Granger. Because you know so much about me, or Blaise for that matter. Because you’re totally behaving like a fair adult. Because we sacrificed nothing. Listen, I am not afraid of you. Blaise isn’t either. You can make up any stupid reason to try to take us down, but I assure you, you will not be doing shit to either of us. We’re doing this because it’s our fucking world too. And if you don’t think these things are important to give a shit about, then fine. But when the wrong person, the actual wrong person, gets their hands on one of these objects and you are brought to your reckoning, don’t you dare come looking for us. You will fall because of your own stupid fucking pride and stubbornness, and personally? I can’t wait to pity you. The only reason you hold this stupid fucking meeting is so that you can boost your own pride in _your_ work, because fuck anyone else who did anything to help win the war, right? God, I’d been dreading this from Potter, because he has a reason to act like he’s a god, but he has chosen to actually act like an adult. And you? This is just disappointing. Grow the fuck up, Granger. You claim to be the most progressive Minister, but your ideas of what makes a person good and evil are outdated as house-elves. Not everything can fit into a pretty little box, or be as perfect as you wish you were. And it’s Mademoiselle Liddell to you; if you’re going to be a dick about it, do it properly.”

After finishing her rant, Alice picked up her book and flipped the Minister of Magic off with both hands, then apparated out of the meeting. Childish, perhaps, but she hadn’t hit anyone, which was an improvement from her school days. She had landed outside of the Three Broomsticks, and let herself in, heading straight for the bar.

“My lord, Alice Liddell! It’s been ages, what brings you in, m’dear?”

Madame Rosmerta greeted Alice with a warm boom, and though the pub was nearly empty, Alice winced.

“Hi, Rosmerta. It’s good to see you too. I’m trying to fly under the radar right now, if you don’t mind, though.”

“Sorry, dear! What’ll it be?”

“Just a glass of Elderflower, please.”

Rosmerta smiled at her, pouring the glass. As Alice sipped, she looked at her, eyebrow raised in a parody of a scolding parent.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at that meeting?”

“Please-- it’s not a meeting, just a sizing competition.”

They both laughed, and Rosmerta left Alice on her own. Alice adored Rosmerta; she never asked too many questions, and always sensed when someone wanted to be alone. As she sipped on her wine and read more of _La Vagabonde_ , she felt her anger draining away, replaced by a familiar pit in her stomach. She didn’t know what she expected- the fact that Neville and Harry actually stood up for her and Blaise was a pleasant surprise, but Granger, perfect, golden-girl Granger, would never like her, far less trust her. She was dangerously close to the beginning of wallowing when Blaise walked into the pub, taking a seat next to her. 

“Sorry.”

He chuckled.

“What for? I’m actually impressed, you put up with her shit far longer than I expected. I owe George five galleons now thanks to you.”

She looked up at him, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“You placed bets on how long it would be until I went off?”

“Yep. And I’ve never been prouder to lose money. You really gave it to her. Ron was about to fly across the table at you.”

“Psh. Like he could’ve done anything. How bad was the aftermath?”

He shook his head at Rosmerta as she came by, raising an empty tankard in his direction.

“Not that bad, honestly. After you gave that little performance, I told Hermione that I seconded your motion for her to stop being such a hard-ass, and thanked her for her help, and everyone else for their time.”

Alice almost choked on her wine.

“Help?!”

Blaise gave her a giant grin.

“Yeah. She gave us a lead. Didn’t even know that she was name dropping, and now we have somewhere to start. C’mon, finish that and let’s get back to yours so we can talk.”

______

Once they were back at the Liddell House, Alice grabbed her worn, messy notebook and sat down in the main sitting room with Blaise. He was writing furiously in his own notebook, probably transcribing everything said at the meeting. 

“You remember all of that rubbish?”

“Most of it, yeah. The only thing we really need is the name to go off of. The Pensieve Camera… hmm…” 

Alice tapped her chin with a pen. It was a muggle item she’d taken from a cafe one day-- she liked it better than quills because she could drum it mindlessly while she thought without getting ink everywhere.

“It must have something to do with memory… Pensieves preserve memories, so…”

Blaise nodded, scribbling away, but their train of thought was interrupted by a sound Alice never thought she would hear: a knock at her door.


End file.
